


We Could Rule the World

by larajeansong



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Bickering, Character Rivalry, Denial, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family Dynamics, Fluff, High School, M/M, Post-Canon, Roommates, Slow Burn, Unfriendly Competition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-08-07 11:04:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 41,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7712482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larajeansong/pseuds/larajeansong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gakushuu Asano starts high school, he's ready for difficult exams, strict teachers, and demanding classes — but what he isn't ready for is Karma Akabane. As his roommate. Living with him. Maybe even liking him. </p><p>Somehow, they make it work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Could Rule the World

**Author's Note:**

> I only follow the anime, so it’s best to read this within the anime’s context. This could probably fit into the canon save for a few factual errors here and there, but it’s better off seen as a canon divergence AU. Basically, Gakushuu and Karma end up becoming roommates at Kunugigaoka High, which has the option to board.
> 
> I’ve deleted my two previous, much shorter Karushuu fics, _Not Quite a Misnomer_ and _The Duality of Man_ , which I’ve combined into this fic (like, word-for-word combination with some editing), because this ‘verse is more coherent as one enormous oneshot rather than a series. This is written almost entirely from Gakushuu’s third person POV, because while both Karma and Gakushuu are my children, Gakushuu is not nearly as developed (despite being highly complex) and I wanted to pay more attention to him.
> 
> This is a two-shot, but the second chapter's more of a brief coda.
> 
> Have fun with this mixture of shameless fluff, bickering, and general gayness. Hope you enjoy it. :)

Akabane twirls a fat red marker in one hand. His other hand holds a metre stick. “All right, Asano. You’ve made the measurements to your satisfaction?”

Gakushuu holds up a clipboard between two fingers. “To the centimetre. Check them if you think they’re inaccurate.”

Akabane grins as he scans the pieces of marking tape Gakushuu smoothed onto the floor. “Maybe I should. You might’ve made a mistake. I know you struggle with maths sometimes—”

“It was _three_ points.”

“Ah, but still a wide gap,” Satan himself says as he lines up the meterstick on Gakushuu’s pieces of tape. “Missing three points out of twenty? Why, that’s an eighty-five, Asano. Twenty points is the size of a quiz.”

Gakushuu didn’t even realise that he was grinding his teeth so hard; he feels sorry for his dentist. He forces himself to relax his jaw. If Akabane — who’s already throwing his clothes around the room, don’t think Gakushuu doesn’t see the jacket slung over the back of his chair or the socks on his bed — can maintain a flawless white smile, then so can Gakushuu.

“There.” Akabane stands up, leaning the metre stick on the wall. He gives a show of stepping back and dusting off his hands. The line is thick and bold on the floorboards, as vivid as a splash of blood. “This is my half of the room. And that half is yours. Agreed?”

Gakushuu nods.

“Any other rules, then, Number Two?”

Gakushuu taps a pen against his chin in thought. He’s tempted to type up a contract fifty pages long, reminiscent of his days with Class E. It’s obvious Akabane’s far too lazy to read it. Gakushuu can certainly sneak in a clause somewhere in the middle, in size 6 font, about Akabane giving up his soul.

Oh, wait. That doesn’t work anyway, because Akabane doesn’t _have_ a soul. Gakushuu shrugs. “We’re only required to be roommates for one week before we can request a transfer. I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“Fair enough,” Akabane says, flopping on his bed with exaggerated unconcern. He closes his eyes; at this point, Gakushuu thinks he never wants to see that specific shade of mercury ever again.

There’s a knock on the door. It’s Ren, asking Gakushuu if he’s going to join the other Virtuosos for dinner and ice cream. It’s a semesterly tradition for the five of them to do so, before extracurriculars and classes can start consuming their lives again. Gakushuu won’t admit it, but he likes the simplicity of this particular custom.

“I’m coming,” calls Gakushuu, surveying the red boundary. The colour isn’t a far cry from Akabane’s hair. Gakushuu hopes that when he gets a roommate transfer, he gets another room as well, because he definitely doesn’t want his new roommate seeing the line and all the hostility it represents. It’s suspicious. It’ll make the new one a lot harder to control.

* * *

 It’s eight o’clock when Gakushuu gets back. Before he makes it to his door, however, he’s accosted by one of the other boys in the hallway, who stops him to chat. Gakushuu is tired enough that he just wants to go to bed and sleep while he still can, but he hides it with a polite smile. When he makes it back into his room, he’s forgotten ninety percent of the conversation.

“Did you put spiders in my bed, Akabane?” he inquires, flicking on the light. Akabane isn’t in the room. Perhaps Gakushuu shouldn’t have expected him to be. He’s probably off putting glue on all the desks or making teachers cry.

Or he’s immature enough to be hiding behind the door.

“That won’t work,” Gakushuu deadpans, stepping back as it clicks. Akabane springs toward him, a vicious smirk on his face, and oh, _shit._ Gakushuu throws himself onto his bed and buries his face in the covers as a smoke bomb hits the floor, and none too quietly, either. He realizes a second later that he’s just left himself wide open.

Thankfully, Akabane doesn’t attack him. Gakushuu wraps his blanket around himself, yanking it up to cover his nose, and turns to face the demon that’s ruining his life. He coughs a bit. “A smoke bomb? _Really_?”

“Check that for itching powder,” says Akabane.

With wide eyes, Gakushuu throws the blanket off. There’s nothing on it, though. Gakushuu’s skin doesn’t itch at all. He scowls. “How old are you, five?”

Akabane’s smirk only widens. “If only I had a camera right now.”

“This violates the terms of our agreement,” Gakushuu says, reaching for the blanket. He kicks off his shoes, making a mental note to check them tomorrow before he puts them on. Just in case Akabane dumps scorpions in them overnight. “You’re supposed to keep to your side of the room.”

“The rule’s that I can’t throw my things here, or mess with yours.” Akabane tilts his head.

“You threw _your_ smoke bomb.” Despite himself, Gakushuu coughs. He’s having trouble seeing Akabane’s face through the haze.

“On _my_ side of the room.” Akabane points out its remains.

Gakushuu wants to throw Akabane out the window. If only they weren’t on the first floor. Class A gets the privilege of not dealing with the stairs, but it also means that the fall can’t kill Akabane. Gakushuu’s face twists in disappointment. “Go to sleep, Akabane.”

“What? It’s eight PM.”

“Precisely.”

Akabane’s eyes widen. “I can’t believe that you would accuse me of being a five-year-old. That’s hypocritical for someone who considers it acceptable to go to sleep at eight PM.”

“Because I don’t stay up all night to participate in your delinquent activities?” Gakushuu rolls his eyes. “We wake up at six AM, you know.”

“No, we don’t. What are you talking about?”

Gakushuu sighs. “Breakfast starts at seven-fiften, and homeroom starts at eight. Before that, you have to dress, brush your teeth, wash your face, shower, comb your hair, check to make sure you’ve packed everything, double-check yesterday’s homework, and—”

“No.” Akabane looks more horrified than he would’ve been if Gakushuu had said _My lunchbox holds the corpses of three-month-old golden retrievers._ “No, you don’t. You _skip_ breakfast, steal food from the cafeteria at seven fifty-five, go to homeroom, eat breakfast during homeroom—”

“Oh, God. Please, Akabane, stop talking.”

“I will if you don’t wake me up at six AM.”

“Only counts if you don’t keep me up until then,” Gakushuu retorts. He normally doesn’t go to sleep this early either, but it’s the first day of school. He’ll inevitably gather a hefty sleep debt when his classes and activities grow more intense. If Akabane wants to collapse from sleep deprivation at the end of the month, Gakushuu’s hardly going to preach to him about the tenets of self-care.

“Fine,” the demon says, crossing his arms. He releases a melodramatic sigh. “Goodnight, Number Two. I’ll turn off the lights.”

“Goodnight,” Gakushuu snaps, and proceeds to bury himself in his bed.

* * *

Gakushuu’s morning routine goes smoothly, despite him having to keep the volume down. Akabane’s a heavy sleeper, so it’s not too hard. The redhead never so much as twitches in his bed. Meanwhile, Gakushuu cleans himself up, dresses himself in the standard school uniform, makes his bed, checks all his homework for errors, checks the lessons for today on the syllabi, completes today’s English assignment in advance, sweeps his half of the room for nonexistent dust particles, and heads to breakfast.

Ren, Koyama, Seo, and Araki join him soon enough, because they aren’t the walking embarrassments that Akabane is. Gakushuu makes cheerful conversation with them, discussing the plans for today (or the next step toward taking over the world, depending on how you interpret it). It’s not long before others start to join them — hesitantly, at first, then less so. Gakushuu’s happy to see a few familiar faces from middle school, and to introduce himself to people outside of his class.

When 7:45 arrives and Gakushuu’s thoughts are starting to stray from the conversation, Akabane still hasn’t appeared in the cafeteria. He wonders if his roommate plans to play hooky. That seems ridiculous for even him. It’s the second day of classes.

“Let’s go,” he says, nodding to his friends. “Class starts in fifteen minutes.”

They start the journey to Kiyomoto’s homeroom, striking up a few passing conversations in the hallways as they’re walking along. When they arrive, it’s 7:53. Kiyomoto-sensei smiles at them as they take their seats in the front row. The other students start filing in not long after. At 7:55, Kiyomoto-sensei opens her attendance book. Her forehead creases as she makes a few tick marks on it.

“Alright, Class 1-A,” she says over the sound of the late bell ringing, enunciating the _A_ with a certain degree of understandable pride. “It’s time to take roll call. Again, all you have to say is ‘here.’ Karma Akabane.”

Gakushuu expects silence.

“Here.”

Ah. He didn’t hear Akabane come in. So the redhead isn’t going to be too much of a delinquent today after all.

“Akabane, you know that you’re not allowed to eat in class.”

Munching noises come from the back. Gakushuu doesn’t turn around, paper airplanes be damned. Akabane says — while _still chewing_ — ”Class hasn’t started yet, Kiyomoto-sensei. I’ll be finished by eight.”

“Very well. Shizuko Amori.”

“Here.”

Chewing noises.

“Teppei Araki.”

“Here.”

Araki’s response is almost lost in the the sounds of Akabane’s sloppy eating.

“Gakushuu Asano.”

Gakushuu cringes so hard that he almost misses his cue. Kiyomoto-sensei repeats his name. He straightens in his chair, despite having had perfect posture already. “Apologies. Here, sensei.”

The chewing noises cease as Akabane’s chair slides back, screeching against the floor. They resume as he walks up to the front of the classroom, dumps several wrappers in the trash can, and returns to his seat. He makes eye contact with Gakushuu on the way. There are crumbs on his face. Gakushuu fucking hates him.

It’s 7:57. Akabane hadn’t been kidding about his morning routine.

* * *

_How’s school?  
_ Gakuhou Asano, 3:45 PM

Gakushuu’s so startled to see the text, he almost drops his phone. He scrolls up to see his history. The last three texts from his father had been _Did you tell the maid to pick up more eggs at the grocery store?, Your mother is visiting us in three days,_ and _I won’t be home until midnight._ (A part of Gakushuu is surprised at that last one. Father doesn’t normally bother telling Gakushuu that sort of thing, and Gakushuu doesn’t expect him to.) Maybe Father’s just asking because he doesn’t govern the school anymore. At least not overtly.

 _It’s going well. Nothing much has happened yet.  
_ Asano Gakushuu, 4:13 PM

When no immediate reply comes, Gakushuu sets down his phone.

Currently, papers spill across his desk. Afterschool activities don’t start until next week, and he makes a habit of doing homework straightaway, if not a few days in advance. Strangely enough, Akabane is sitting at his desk too, doing the exact same thing. Earlier, Gakushuu commented on it, only to receive another obnoxious response concerning last semester’s finals results.

“Ugh,” he says.

To _himself._ Quietly enough that Akabane should know he isn’t supposed to respond, too. Still, the Roommate From Hell says, “What’s wrong, Asano? Is it that you’re actually having difficulty with your homework?”

Gakushuu glances over his shoulder, his lips curving into an amused smile. Does Akabane actually work, or does he scribble witty insults in his notebook so he can use them later? “Of course not.”

Akabane places his feet on his desk. “Why, then what problem could our golden boy possibly be having?”

“I didn’t finish lunch. The beginning of the year always has a lot of appointments, and I had to see a teacher for student council duties.”

“Hm.”

A candy bar lands on Gakushuu’s desk. Akabane’s aim is flawless — it doesn’t even disturb his papers. Gakushuu rips open the shiny green-and-brown wrapper. It’s dark chocolate, the only flavour Gakushuu allows himself to eat regularly. He tears off a piece and sniffs it.

“It’s from the cafeteria vending machine,” Akabane says, assuring him that it isn’t poisoned.

“Hm,” Gakushuu says again. The chocolate is rich in his mouth, and it melts easily. “Thank you.”

Akabane sets his feet back down on the floor. He flips to a new page in his textbook. “You’re welcome, Second Place. I don’t want anything to get in the way of your studies. It makes life rather boring.”

Gakushuu thinks there’s probably a compliment in there somewhere. He also thinks that he doesn’t want to find it.

He pops another piece of chocolate in his mouth and returns to his homework.

* * *

The one good thing about this horrible arrangement is, it’s not hard to avoid Akabane. Even if Gakushuu wasn’t doing it on purpose, he’s not in his dorm often. Student council elections are on the horizon, and Gakushuu joins basketball because it relieves some of the restless itch beneath his skin and it’s a good way to talk to the older students. To his surprise, Karma joins it too.

“I didn’t think you were capable of teamwork, Akabane,” Gakushuu says one evening.

Akabane’s rifling through the closet for who-knows-what. “You’d be surprised.”

Like Gakushuu doesn’t have all-too-painful memories of Akabane in junior high during Capture the Flag. They were in the same class for the second semester of their second year, and he can’t count how many times Akabane was one of the idiots who ran straight across the boundaries without so much as tossing a second glance at his teammates. When they were on opposite teams, Gakushuu took vicious pleasure in tagging him out just because _really,_ who still uses that kind of strategy?

Still, he cannot argue with Akabane twenty-four-seven and survive with his sanity intact, so he leaves it alone and thinks, _One week._

* * *

One week passes by, painful and agonizing, but when Monday comes around again, Gakushuu shakes off the sleep deprivation Karma caused him the day before by experimenting with _firecrackers_ outside the window until a teacher almost caught him. No one likes Mondays, but this particular one will free him.

* * *

The high school office is a large, spacious affair, with a lush, moss-coloured carpet instead of the freezing tile Gakushuu is used to. Its windows are floor-to-ceiling, sunlight spilling over the furniture and illuminating the pastel blue walls. In one corner, the secretary’s eyes are warm with humour as she converses with a senior. There’s several plush grey couches scattered near the walls, just inviting some ill-mannered high schooler to lay down and take a nap.

A high schooler like Akabane.

“Mm,” he says, dropping onto the nearest couch with a yawn. “This is so nice. Asano, mind talking to the secretary alone? I think I’ll just rest a bit here and enjoy this _really_ soft—”

“Get up,” Gakushuu says, staring him down. “Now.”

“Practice your CEO voice on someone else,” Akabane retorts, stretching out like a cat.

“I could provide ‘incurable laziness and dismal etiquette’ as my reasons for requesting a roommate transfer, and I’d have all the evidence I needed. However, we’ll be better at making our case if both of us are there. Such encounters always go better if you can prove you’re not just someone with a lot of bias.”

“Practice your CEO voice on _them._ I’m sure you’ll be fine, Asano.”

Gakushuu throws a glance at the secretary to make sure she isn’t looking. “Akabane. Get up.”

“But this couch is so soft compared to our awful dormitory beds—”

If Akabane hadn’t been enough of an idiot to close his eyes, he could’ve dodged Gakushuu. As it is, it’s not easy to defend yourself when you’re lying down. Gakushuu presses the tip of his pen against the redhead’s jugular and smirks, slow and deadly, while he angles himself so that the secretary can’t see what he’s doing.

“That pen is expensive,” Akabane says, although Gakushuu can feel the pulse in his neck accelerating. He doesn’t open his eyes. “Are you sure you want to ruin it?”

“I’m ruining it for a noble cause. There are quite a few classmates who would thank me on their knees for ridding the school of someone like you.”

“Harsh.” Akabane blinks slowly.

Gakushuu sees it coming. He rolls off to the side, miraculously hindering-but-not-quite-blocking Akabane’s kick with his pen, which snaps in half. Gakushuu takes advantage of the beautifully shocked expression on the redhead’s face to grab his foot and yank him off the couch, so that he’s sent crashing to the floor. Before he recovers, Gakushuu punches him in the temple, knocking his head against the luxuriously soft carpet, and snaps, “I actually did like that pen.”

“Boys.”

Akabane exhales deeply, rubbing his forehead. “You know, I was rather relying on you to be the responsible one and not get us into trouble.”

The secretary, Nijo Ran, has been friends with Gakushuu’s father for three years and running. Two weeks ago, she came to Gakushuu’s house for dinner to chat with Asano Sr. and make friendly small talk with his son. Now, she stands above them with her hands on her hips and a glare on her face that Gakushuu knows has made seniors cry.

“I apologize,” Gakushuu says, rising with the utmost grace. Akabane doesn’t even bother getting up; he’s too busy clutching his throbbing temple. Gakushuu hopes he has a headache for a week. God knows that Akabane has been nothing but a headache himself, so he deserves it. He needs to pay for the aspirin, too.

Nijo’s expression does not thaw the slightest bit. “Not that you should be harassing each other, boys, but if you’re going to do so, kindly take it out of this office.”

Gakushuu bows his head in contrition. “We didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. It’s sort of why we’re here, actually.”

“Smooth transition,” Akabane mumbles behind him. Gakushuu decidedly does not clock him in the face again.

Nijo raises an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me your teacher sent you down because you got into a fight with each other.”

“No, no, of course not.”

“We do it all the time. We just don’t get sent to the office for it,” Akabane adds, which isn’t entirely true because they _do_ keep away from each other during class. Sure, if Gakushuu could shoot lasers with his eyes when he was angry enough, homeroom would’ve been a battlefield, but — contrary to popular belief — Gakushuu doesn’t have superpowers. Neither does Akabane. Back in their junior high days, Gakushuu could’ve sworn that Akabane knew black magic and was summoning demons in his spare time, but if the redhead is friendly with anyone from Hell, he’s lighting the candles when Gakushuu’s asleep.

They have not been fighting in class. Akabane just wants to besmirch Gakushuu’s reputation.

Fortunately, Nijo raises the other eyebrow, which Gakushuu knows is Nijo-language for _I know you’re lying, but I’ll humour you, child._ “Alright, then. Tell me why you’re stirring up trouble in here.”

“We want a roommate transfer,” Gakushuu says. He should probably turn around and offer to help Akabane up. He doesn’t. “Akabane and I room together, and we don’t think we’re compatible.”

“The delicate version of ‘it’s really hard not to try to strangle each other,’ I see,” Nijo deadpans. Apparently, she’s a lot more direct when she and Father aren’t trying to out-charm each other at dinner.

“Precisely,” Akabane says.

“Well, I have to agree with you there, but your request is denied.”

A small, well-hidden, socially unappealing part of Gakushuu explodes into flames of pure rage. He hides it with a politely puzzled frown. “We haven’t even filled out the official forms, Ms. Nijo.”

“Yes, I’m aware of the procedure. However, the principal has informed me that you two aren’t allowed to change roommates for your first year of high school.”

For a moment, Gakushuu’s mind blanks. _What twisted scheme has Father devised now?_ Then he remembers that Father isn’t the principal anymore, and there’s someone new to contend with. Unfortunately, Gakushuu doesn’t know him that well. Mr. Shichiro was there on orientation day, but Gakushuu didn’t bother to go because he knew Kunugigaoka inside and out anyway. Besides, he can only appear at so many school events before collapsing from exhaustion.

“Principal Shichiro?” Akabane stands up at last, dusting off his hands on his pants. “He knows me. Let me talk to him.”

Gakushuu can’t help but turn around to goggle at him. “By ‘he knows me,’ you mean you became really well-acquainted with him from all those detentions, right?”

Akabane smirks at him. “Are you upset that an authority figure likes me more than you for the first time in your life? Not everyone thinks I’m a delinquent, Asano.”

“If the demographic you call ‘not everyone’ is composed of those you’ve blackmailed and bribed, your ridiculous classmates from 3-E, and the children you’ve undoubtedly terrified into submission, then yes, certainly.”

“Compared to the worryingly obsessive members of the Gakushuu Asano fan club—”

Nijo clears her throat. “Asano. Akabane. I can ask the principal for an appointment with you. It’s clear that your need for a more well-matched roommate is pressing, and I don’t want Kunugigaoka to gain a reputation for housing students guilty of homicide.”

 _I didn’t expect for us to have to meet up with the principal._ Gakushuu frowns. He would’ve reserved an appointment with Shichiro if he predicted that was necessary.

“Boys,” Nijo says again, since neither of them have responded. Gakushuu immediately refocuses on her. “The principal is currently free, so I can ask him right now if you’d like.”

Gakushuu nods. “That would be lovely, Ms. Nijo.”

“Very well. Please wait here.” Nijo walks over to a large wooden door labelled _Principal’s Office_ in golden lettering. She knocks twice and enters without waiting for an answer.

Akabane elbows him in the side. Gakushuu dodges.

“I wasn’t trying to attack you,” the redhead clarifies.

Gakushuu’s eyebrows go up. “Then what was that for?”

Akabane looks at the door as it swings closed and Nijo’s tightly tied bun disappears into the darkness. The new principal doesn’t like having actual lighting any more than the old one did, apparently. Akabane asks, “How do women wear high heels that tall?”

Gakushuu stares at him.

“I think they’d be a great weapon,” says Akabane, flopping right back down on the couch no doubt well aware that Ms. Nijo or the principal could come in at any minute. “They’re at least three inches. I bet that she could take out someone’s eye—”

“Oh, God, please stop talking. Ms. Nijo comes over to my house to compliment Father’s cooking and tell me how much I’m growing. I don’t need that kind of imagery.”

 _“The delicate version of ‘it’s really hard not to try to strangle each other,’ I see,”_ Akabane mimics with frightening accuracy. “She seems exactly like she knows the potential uses of her he—”

“Akabane, the senior she was talking to appears to have fled, so I’m going to assume that no one is around to stop me from murdering you,” Gakushuu says, kneeling to pick up the halves of his pen. They’ve left quite an ink stain on the carpet, too. Gakushuu feels a little bit guilty; it _is_ a really nice carpet. Still, the maids will clean it up.

“I’m not paying for the damages,” says Akabane.

Gakushuu tosses the halves of his pen into the trash can. “I’m fine with that. If the transfer goes through, you’ll save me plenty in pens I would’ve otherwise used to murder you.”

His roommate pouts. “You know, I might like you better when you’re playing the picture-perfect principal’s son.”

“My father isn’t the principal anymore,” Gakushuu says shortly, just as the door opens and a platinum blonde head pokes out.

Mr. Shichiro — _Principal_ Shichiro — taught at Kunugigaoka High for eight years before ascending to his current position. He was head of the ever-prestigious math department, although Kiyomoto holds that title now. Gakushuu’s worked with him a few times at school events. He’s a pleasant enough man, despite his perpetually unimpressed facial expression.

“Asano,” he says with a nod. “Akabane. Come in.”

Akabane’s eyes are on his back as Gakushuu walks in. They brush shoulders as they’re entering. Gakushuu isn’t intimidated by meeting the principal, but that bit of physical contact bothers him.

The principal strides over to his desk and sits down. Beside him, Nijo stands with pursed lips. He beckons for them to take their seats in the two chairs opposite him. Gakushuu considers remaining standing, but this is a pleasant negotiation. Hopefully. He pulls back the chair and sits down.

“Ms. Nijo has informed me that you wish to change roommates. Is that correct?” Shichiro inquires, brushing his fingers across the top of the desk, clearing away some nonexistent dust.

Akabane and Gakushuu nod in unison.

“Ah, I thought that would happen. Your rivalry is infamous, boys.” Shichiro gives a slight chuckle. The boys don’t return it. “However, I’ll have to refuse.”

Gakushuu’s eye twitches. “Why is that, Principal?”

“You and Akabane were the top scorers at our junior high, and I’m sure you will maintain that streak in high school. Few others are truly on your level. You motivate each other, really.” Shichiro’s smile turns sharp. “Further, our other students could do to see a sense of unity between you. Asano, your friendship with — the Big Five, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s highly motivating to the student body. They see you together, and they can’t help but wish their friend group was like that too. The same applies to you and Akabane.”

Gakushuu’s expression is calm as he fantasizes about ripping Shichiro’s perfect silver eyebrows off his face. Akabane is suddenly bent double as he tries to deal with a hacking cough that’s obviously a laugh in disguise.

“With all due respect, sir,” Akabane gasps out, making it clear that he thinks _all due respect_ is _no respect whatsoever,_ “Asano and I aren’t friends.”

Shichiro shrugs. “Of course not, but it wouldn’t hurt to be. Nonetheless, since you’re roommates, you’re seen together quite frequently, and that already creates a sense of unity.”

“Sir, the same such effect could be created if I roomed with another prestigious student, such as one of the Big Five,” says Gakushuu. He’s starting to lose his patience.

Shichiro levels a cool look at him. “Academically, Akabane places far above your roommates, Asano. In fact, he placed above _you_ last semester, during the—“

Gakushuu bites down so hard on his tongue that he tastes blood.

“—finals,” Akabane completes, that infernal smirk on his face.

“You understand, then. If that’s all, boys, then Nijo will see you out.” Shichiro’s smile is so frosty, Gakushuu thinks he sees snowflakes collecting on the windows.

“Of course. Come on, now,” Nijo says, before either Akabane or Gakushuu can devise a response. Her heels click-clack against the floor as she walks toward the door and opens it. The jerk of her head indicates that this isn’t up for discussion.

Akabane looks like he wants to argue, but Gakushuu snags his wrist and drags him out. He doesn’t resist.

“Have a good day, boys,” Shichiro says.

“Have a good day, Principal,” Gakushuu returns, with a smile that could get him away with murder.

If Gakushuu has learned anything in his years of rivalry with his father, Akabane, anyone who’s been a challenge — it is that some people are simply too formidable to budge with stealthy spider-like manipulation and charming words, and it is easy enough to figure out Shichiro is one of them. He wouldn’t be Father’s successor if that weren’t the case. There is no point in sticking around to argue with the principal, not when it’ll only serve to irritate him and waste everyone’s time.

Gakushuu will simply persevere and find another way.

When they’ve exited the office, Nijo returns to her desk. Gakushuu turns to look at his roommate. His now _permanent_ roommate, if he doesn’t figure out what to do.

“That was bullshit,” Akabane says.

For once, Gakushuu agrees with him.

* * *

Ren has a roommate who’s a quiet, compliant little glasses-wearing mouse of a boy who’s intimidated by Ren’s social status and confidence (well, narcissism), which is why Gakushuu doesn’t destroy their room in his fury. While Ren generally doesn’t care what Gakushuu does if he cleans up afterwards, the roommate would mind. Still, it’s a close call. He paces back and forth across the floorboards, barely able to restrain his fury from bleeding into the dorm and wrecking the furniture. Ren sits on the bed, propping up his chin with an elbow as he watches his best friend stew.

“A sense of unity, he told us,” Gakushuu says, somehow articulate even though he’s practically snarling. It’s a skill you pick up when you need to intimidate people into giving you what you want. “He has no right to interfere within the social hierarchy of Kunugigaoka. That belongs to _me_. The principal can stay out of it.”

“I agree,” Ren says calmly. In a situation like this, there’s nothing to be done except be the rock in Gakushuu’s storm. “You control the hierarchy, Asano. It’s not quite stable yet, since we’ve only been here a week, but it’s already clear that you’re in charge. Adding a co-ruler serves no purpose, unless he wishes to rein you in.”

“That’s a possibility,” Gakushuu says. “Perhaps Principal Shichiro isn’t comfortable with the idea of a single person having an entire school under his control. Which is hypocritical, since look at what _he’s_ doing.”

“I’d rather have you as a ruler, Asano,” Araki pipes up from the corner. He’s fiddling with something on his laptop.

“Thank you.” It comes out flat.

Araki and Ren exchange concerned glances out of the corner of his eye. Gakushuu is not blind to his friends’ altruistic worry for him, but right now, he cannot stop to appreciate this little show of consideration when he’d rather be setting things on fire. Akabane probably has some matches; Gakushuu should return to his room to “borrow” them.

And oh no, Gakushuu should not have thought of Akabane, because he’s about to spontaneously combust with unadulterated rage at the very thought of that _demon_. He imagines that the patch of wall above Ren’s bed is Akabane’s face, and glares at it until he’s sure the plaster starts to flake. Inanimate objects have the decency to be terrified of Gakushuu, it seems, but not his roommate. “The ever-charming delight that the Director has paired me with,” Gakushuu says evenly, “stayed up until 2 AM yesterday playing rock music.”

Ren shakes his head in sympathy. “Really? We haven’t heard any. He must be keeping the volume down.”

“Yes, because he’s specifically trying to torment _me_. I believe that he’s decided since he’s stuck with me, any pretence of peace is done with and he’s ready to wage all-out war. If the principal thinks I’m overconfident and is trying to take me down a peg, driving me insane with sleep deprivation is not the way to do it.”

“You can sleep in my room if you like,” Ren offers.

Gakushuu shakes his head. “As appealing as the idea is, I won’t be caught violating school conduct like that. Student council elections are next week, and I intend to run for president. You’re running too, right, Ren?”

“Secretary. Seo told me this morning that he’s going for treasurer.”

“Good. Do you have any idea who’s going to run for vice president? Sato always did that, but he doesn’t go to our school anymore.”

“I don’t know yet, but I can get a list to you by tomorrow.”

“That would be good.” Gakushuu exhales. “On an additional note, I cannot sleep in your room because I refuse to concede my territory to Akabane. _Araki_.”

Araki is not as good at concealing his smirk as he thinks he is. He immediately puts a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, boss. It’s just, is he really that bad?”

“I have broken six pens this week,” Gakushuu says. “Six. Four from trying to gouge out his eyes, and two from being unable to concentrate during my homework and digging my pen into the paper too hard.”

Araki and Ren do that exchanging of glances again, where their expressions are half-pity, half-sympathy, and one-hundred-percent concern for Gakushuu’s mental state. Gakushuu does not blame them. He is one week into the semester, and he is on the verge of a mental breakdown, not because of schoolwork or extracurriculars, but Akabane and Shichiro and their, forgive the vulgarity, absolute _bullshit_.

“We could manipulate my roommate into switching places with you,” Ren says. “Just do an unofficial transfer, and no one will ever notice. I know you don’t want to give in, Asano, but don’t you have better things to do than deal with Akabane?”

“I do,” Gakushuu admits.

“So room with me instead. Honestly, my roommate would probably get along fine with Akabane. He’s not easily annoyed.”

“We’re only sure of that because he’s managed to deal with _you_ for a week,” Araki teases, and Ren throws a pillow at him.

 _It’s not a bad idea_. Gakushuu has too much on his plate to spar with Akabane every day. They’re fifteen years old, going on sixteen. They’re _high schoolers._ Just because Akabane is an immature toddler with a toddler’s sense of humour doesn’t mean that Gakushuu has to get dragged down with him.

Too bad Gakushuu is more stubborn than he gives even himself credit for, because he finds himself saying, “Thank you, but I can’t. I’m staying with Akabane. Perhaps I can drive him out first.”

“Maybe,” Ren says. “Good luck with it, anyway, Asano.”

Araki glances up from his computer. “If you don’t break down from him, then you can have all the followers you want. You should be dictator of the universe based on your resilience alone.”

They all know Araki doesn’t have the ability to give that gift, but right now, Gakushuu wills himself to stop taking compliments for granted and smile at it anyway. “Not even Akabane will stop me from that.”

The three of them laugh in unison. It should probably be disturbing, but Gakushuu thinks it’s charming.

* * *

It’s not all complaining and no action. Gakushuu tries. Really, he does.

He politely emails Shichiro, laying out his argument for why Akabane shouldn't be his roommate (with photo evidence of their messy room and Akabane's homicidal smile attached). He brings Nijo flowers, pointing out their years-old connection for why she should put in a good word for him. In a team effort with Akabane, he sucks up to Ms. Kiyomoto more than he ever did before; together, they answer her every question, direct the class discussions, and offer help to every student who needs it, only for her to shake her head and say she doesn’t have that kind of authority. (Most people don’t take up Akabane up on his offers, although it doesn’t bother him in the least.)

In a last-ditch effort, Gakushuu sneaks into Shichiro’s office during lunch and tries to hack into the school database to change his roommate assignment, but he doesn’t so much as figure out Shichiro’s password before the principal comes in and Gakushuu’s forced to spend the next three hours hiding in an enormous houseplant.

Those two weeks of effort are some of the most — most _ridiculous_ of Gakushuu’s life. He’s horrified that he’s spending his time like this, and that all the resources he has, all the strings he pulls, don’t do _anything_ to fix an issue this simple. Akabane is as determined as he is to transfer roommates; despite their constant fights both inside their dorm and out, they forget their years-old rivalry enough of the time to work side by side.

It's not until the courtyard incident that Gakushuu realises he’ll survive rooming with Akabane. At least in the short term.

When Akabane steps between Isobe and Hirayama, Gakushuu knows he shouldn't look. He should ignore Akabane and the trouble he's inevitably going to stir up, and get back to organizing the next student council event with Seo and Ren like he's supposed to. He should be scolding Ren and Seo, even, for gaping at the chaos that's about to go down in the school courtyard instead of turning away. At the very least, he should be eating lunch instead of letting his tray sit neglected in the grass.

Gakushuu fails to do any of those things.

Instead, he taps a finger against Seo's leg, snagging the boy's attention. Ren doesn't even need a signal; he's already looking at Gakushuu. "Stay here," he mouths, and cranes his neck toward Akabane.

"Leave him alone," Akabane's saying.

Isobe, a first-year student of formidable temper and considerable bulk, somehow manages to look down his nose at him, even though they’re the same height. Hirayama, cowering behind the redhead, is a senior and member of the D Class.

 _This situation is all too familiar_ , Gakushuu thinks. Maybe Akabane just has a thing for saving academically underachieving damsels in distress.

“This isn’t any of your business,” Isobe snaps back. “Why do you care about some loser whose name you probably don’t even know, anyway?”

“ _Hirayama_ is a senpai, Isobe.”

“A _senpai_ in the D Class, so that doesn’t mean anything! Get out of the way, Akabane, and let me have at him.”

Akabane flashes his teeth in a smirk. “You don’t want to do that.”

“We all know about your record. If you get in another fight, you’ll be expelled.”

Gakushuu’s lip curls as he glances at Hirayama, who’s practically whimpering. If the student had any brains, he would’ve run away by now, sparing Akabane the potential expulsion and himself the beating.

“I’ll take my chances,” Akabane says, because he’s an idiot.

Isobe’s eyes narrow. “Fine.”

Gakushuu knows from Isobe’s first swing that the boy knows how to fight, but Akabane is better. He snags Isobe’s wrist and brings him down by kicking him in the kneecap. The other boy grunts and lashes out —

— at Gakushuu, who easily blocks it and says, “I think that’s enough.”

Murmurs of surprise fill the courtyard. Students mill about, gossiping to each other and throwing glances Gakushuu’s way. At least one click resounds as someone takes a photo; Ren and Seo will be taking care of the photographer to make sure it doesn’t start getting around. Akabane himself widens his eyes, but he doesn’t tell Gakushuu to back off, which is a better reaction than expected.

Isobe falters at the sight of the student council president. “Asano—?”

“I advise you to keep your head, or Akabane won’t be the only one getting expelled,” Gakushuu says with a pleasant smile.

The colour drains from Isobe’s face. “Asano, you can’t be serious. You’re defending a delinquent and a coward.”

“They’re my people,” Gakushuu says casually, flicking a strand of hair out of his eyes. “As are you, but you won’t stay that way for longer if you insist on getting into fights.”

Isobe scans his face and realises he’s serious. He whirls on his heel and strides away, muttering expressions of incredulity underneath his breath, but no outright fury. Good.

Gakushuu turns around to face Akabane and Hirayama. He inclines his head toward his roommate. “We have class in five minutes.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Akabane says at once.

Normally, Gakushuu would make a snarky remark about his roommate’s decision to be punctual for once, but not when the tension in the air has yet to dissolve. He glances over at Hirayama and gently asks, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Asano,” Hirayama says, starting back. He seems shocked to be addressed. “Thank you. For helping me.”

Gakushuu waves a hand. “Redirect your gratitude to Akabane. I didn’t do anything.”

Hirayama smiles shyly at Akabane, bowing his head. As they discuss the almost-fight, Ren and Seo show up, an identical tilt to their heads. “Everything all right?” Seo asks casually.

Gakushuu nods. “We need to finish working out our plans for next week’s assembly. After school today?”

“Sure,” Seo says. “The library at six?”

“Seven. I have a tutoring session.” Gakushuu watches Akabane finish up his conversation with Hirayama and says, “Can you and Ren stop by Mr. Maki’s classroom and pick up his Economics I textbook for me?”

The message is clear. Seo and Ren nod and part ways with him, leaving Gakushuu to walk with Akabane to class.

“Asano,” Akabane says, and Gakushuu looks over. “An expulsion certainly would’ve been enough to get you a different roommate.”

Gakushuu knows that, knew it the moment Akabane stared Isobe in the face and told him to leave Hirayama alone. Akabane is not letting the question slip into his words, but it’s obviously there. “That’s a step too far for me.”

The redhead’s eyebrows go up. “Nothing’s too far for you.”

Gakushuu sighs. He might as well explain. “I believe it a tragedy for Kunugigaoka to lose a student so gifted as you simply because some knucklehead’s fists got itchy. You don’t deserve to be expelled, and it is the job of the ruler to ensure peace and harmony among his people.”

Gakushuu waits for the biting remark, the gratified smirk, but there isn’t one. Akabane merely regards him with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips and dips his head in — well, it can’t be mistaken for anything less than respect. “You’re a pretentious ass, Asano, but fair enough.”

Gakushuu smiles back.

It is then that he realises, well, Akabane is tolerable. Which is not entirely a good thing to realise, because Akabane is messy and chaotic and obnoxious, and Gakushuu’s waiting for that inevitable bucket of water over the door. Perhaps Akabane’s insanity is contagious, and now Gakushuu’s started being as irrational as he is, but he can wait for that transfer. He doesn’t need to spend every waking hour mulling over it, because this isn’t so bad.

At least the principal will be pleased to hear that they’re getting along.

* * *

_Midterms are in two weeks. Has anyone started studying yet?  
_ Natsuhiko Koyama in “My min — I mean, friends” - Asano, 4:15 PM

 _I started organizing my notes and assignments yesterday, but I haven’t actually studied.  
_ Teppei Araki in “My min — I mean, friends” - Asano, 4:17 PM

 _I officially started studying one hour ago. Anyone want to do the library reservations for tomorrow?  
_ Ren Sakakibara in “My min — I mean, friends” - Asano, 4:19 PM

 _Ren Sakakibara has changed the chat name from_ “My min — I mean, friends” - Asano _to_ Suffering  
4:19 PM

 _Sure, I’ll make them. 5 PM - 8 PM?  
_ Natsuhiko Koyama in Suffering, 4:20 PM

 _Yes.  
_ Gakushuu Asano in Suffering, 4:20 PM

* * *

Seo, the assigned timekeeper, calls out, “Study break, ten minutes.” The Virtuosos all pause in their typing and scribbling, save Gakushuu, who’s still absorbed in his math packet. He glimpses the four of them exchanging glances.

“Asano,” Ren says. “Breaktime.”

Gakushuu hesitates and writes out two more steps to the problem he’s working on, then drops his pen. “Okay.”

Araki is taking the break to import the photos from their last few outings onto his laptop. Since he’s hardly ever without his camera, he’s responsible for taking pictures of the group. _We have to cherish the memories,_ Ren insists, and after a moment of hesitation, Koyama always backs him up on it. Seo agrees, but it’s mainly because he’s a narcissist who openly admits he loves looking at photos of himself. Gakushuu thinks it’s good for them to be seen as a cohesive group, anyway.

“Look at this,” Araki suddenly says with a chortle. The others glance his way. On the laptop’s screen is an HD snapshot of Koyama’s and Seo’s faces, their tongues hanging out of their mouths and their eyes bulging in expressions so goofy, Gakushuu genuinely smiles. “When did I take this?”

Seo sips from the cup of lemonade he’d forced some poor classmate to get him in exchange for English help. “It was a selfie.”

“Some of these are amazing _,_ ” Araki says, scrolling through the photos. There’s a particularly charming one where they all have kittens in their arms, when they’d done a volunteering job at an event for an animal shelter. Araki sets it as his wallpaper. “Look at this.” He double-clicks on a photo, bringing up the image of Gakushuu soaked in water, his shirt clinging to his skin.

Gakushuu scowls. “There’s no reason you should have that.”

“I shouldn’t,” Araki agrees, his cursor hovering over the delete button. “Akabane stole my camera after he dumped a bucket of water over you, I think. I’m not sure, but I didn’t take this. Want me to trash it, boss?”

Gakushuu regards the image for a moment, imagining pouring acid on its photographer.

Araki takes the hint and hits delete. He keeps scrolling until Seo calls that it’s time to resume studying.

The hours pass by in quiet revision. Every forty-five minutes, Seo announces that it’s time for a five-minute review game, which they’ve assigned Koyama to orchestrate. The occasional classmate — or sometimes, a student of another year — approaches them to ask a question, but for the most part, the evening goes by in contented peace.

In the period from 7:45 to 8, the Virtuosos start to trickle away for other appointments. It’s Koyama who leaves earliest, then Seo, and then Araki, until Ren confirms with the librarian that no one has a reservation at this table until 8:30. “Let’s just keep studying,” he says to Gakushuu, who nods.

They work in amiable silence on a practice history essay until Ren speaks. “You still haven’t gotten a different roommate. Why?”

“I can’t, Ren.” Gakushuu frowns at his screen, wondering if the source he’s pulled up can be trusted. The body text is written in Comic Sans, for God’s sake. “You know that.”

“You seem to have settled in quite nicely with him,” Ren says.

Gakushuu’s eyebrows arch, searching his best friend’s face, wondering why it _matters_. Is it because Ren wants Gakushuu to stop invading his room in order to hide from Akabane? If that’s the problem, Ren should just say so; Gakushuu can easily hide in Koyama’s room, or Araki’s, or Seo’s. Or another of his more distant friends, who still wouldn’t mind.

“I’m glad,” Ren clarifies. He doesn’t look up. “I was deeply concerned when I first learned about the situation. I was certain you’d murder each other by the end of the year, you see.”

Gakushuu’s mouth twists. “Last week, he threatened to set my homework on fire in exchange for me putting his wasabi in his candy. A taste of his own medicine, so to speak.”

“Yes, but _did_ he set your homework on fire? Progress. Besides.” The scratching of his pencil pauses as he glances toward Gakushuu. “Akabane may have an unpleasant personality, but if you ever decided to team up, you’d be unstoppable.”

Gakushuu laughs, his hair falling into his eyes as he bends farther over the desk. “That’s true, but I like you better.”

There’s an unexpected silence. Ren is normally too smooth to let that happen. Gakushuu frowns and stops staring at his history thesis long enough to blink at his second-in-command. “What?”

An odd look rests on Ren’s face, but it seems like once he realizes Gakushuu is actually seeing it, it disappears in a flash, replaced by his usual easygoing smirk. “Don’t say that while anyone else is in earshot, Gakushuu. I’d never escape the admirers.”

True enough. It can awful for Ren and Gakushuu to be seen together. The trail of fans just won’t let up. In that respect, it’s better for Gakushuu to be seen with Akabane, because half of Gakushuu’s admirers think Akabane is terrifying. Unfortunately, they aren’t the only ones who want to stay the hell away from the redhead, which is why Gakushuu doesn’t make a habit of hanging around him.

 _You’re getting distracted._ Gakushuu clicks his pen once, twice, and smiles at Ren. They both return to their thesis statements. This time, the silence is more comfortable.

* * *

 Studying in his dorm with his roommate isn’t so bad. Akabane, to his credit, is the first to extend the olive branch.

Perched on his desk, he’s seemingly absorbed in shuffling through a deck of flashcards — flashcards being construction paper ripped into shapes approximately resembling rectangles, as Gakushuu was unwilling to lend him his own pristine 4x6 index cards — when he glances up and throws out a question about _Of Mice and Men_.

Gakushuu stops in the middle of annotating his chemistry textbook to blink at him. Akabane rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so stiff, Asano. If you help me, I’ll help you. It benefits both of us to teach other as well — patches over the gaps.”

Gakushuu’s eyebrows go up. “And how would you know? I can’t see you having experience tutoring others.”

Akabane smirks at him. “You’d be surprised.”

There’s a meaningful silence where their eyes lock. “I’ll tell you all you want about the characters’ cruelty toward Candy’s dog if you explain problem six on Kiyomoto’s last review sheet.”

“Deal.”

It goes back and forth like that for a while, the two of them tossing questions at each other whenever they need a point of clarification. It’s much more informal than a study session with his friends, with no timed intervals or review games, but still equally effective. Akabane, disorganized delinquent that he is, is a true equal, not an arrogant subordinate who fancies himself higher than Gakushuu, and it is here in their dorm room, while the skies turn grey and their desks overflow with papers, that it becomes apparent.

The real arguing begins when Akabane says, “Hold on. I’m going to get a few snacks from the vending machine.”

Without glancing up from his economics notes, Gakushuu offhandedly asks, “Buy me a chocolate bar?”

Akabane stills, his hand on the doorknob. “Why should I?”

“Because it’s not that hard? Give me a second to find some chan—“

“I’m not your servant, Asano.”

This, of all things, should not escalate, but it does. It’s probably because they’re both exhausted from studying and Gakushuu’s half-certain they’re about to drop from dehydration, but he says something not so nice and the redhead sneers at him.

 _Why is this a big deal?_ “Akabane,” he says, faceplanting into his papers. To his dismay, a stack of math notes flutters into the air from the impact. “Please. I am asking you to buy me _one chocolate bar._ I have the money.”

“You’re the star student, Asano,” Akabane drawls, perching himself on the edge of Gakushuu’s desk. Great. He’s not even going to go to the vending machine. “You have a flawless work ethic. Surely you can buy your own snacks.”

Gakushuu slides down in his chair. “And my co-star is so selfish he can’t spare thirty seconds? Altruism and collaboration is the mark of a _truly_ talented student.”

Akabane’s smirk glimmers out of the corner of Gakushuu’s eye; the redhead knows he’s desperate if he’s rolling out the term _co-star_.

“Okay,” Gakushuu finally says, straightening. “Why don’t we devise a rotation system? You go this time, I’ll go next time, and so on and so forth. Each run, we’ll buy both our own snacks and whatever the other person wants, so long as we can pay for it. Fair enough?”

Akabane’s legs swing back and forth as he sucks out the last drops of his strawberry juice. Where did that juice box come from? “ _Or_ I could let you die of starvation.”

“That’s not an entertaining murder method, and you know it,” Gakushuu retorts. “You really want to make double the necessary trips to the snack machines when you could just poison my food if you wanted to kill me?”

The redhead crumples up the juice box and tosses it into the trash can. “Fair enough, then — if you take this run instead, and I take the next.”

Gakushuu grits his teeth. Akabane is not spiteful enough to double his trips just to torment his roommate, and Gakushuu _is_ mature enough to swallow his pride as well. He is _not_ more of a petulant child than Akabane. “Deal.”

That’s the only blip for the next few hours. Akabane asks for far more snacks than Gakushuu does, so the distribution is hardly fair — mathematically, Gakushuu should be taking a quarter of the trips, not half — but compromise is one of the things he’s learning only now, though he’s heard about it all his life. It’s not something his father ever taught him, and frankly, Gakushuu enjoys learning it for himself.

He wonders if Akabane knew it before. 

* * *

 

When his roommate walks in for the third time that night with his backpack stocked with snacks, he tosses a bar of dark chocolate at Gakushuu and announces, “I’m about to go to sleep. It’s almost midnight.”

Gakushuu’s alert enough to retain information, but he knows he won’t stay that way for much longer. He’s limited himself to three cups of coffee, and it’s not going to keep him up past one. “Fair enough.”

“I’ve been considering something else as well,” Akabane adds, dropping onto the bed. “We’ve been roommates for about a month now.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

It’s surreal to think about it. At the beginning of the month, Gakushuu was dead set on getting one of them out of this room, even if that person was going straight into a coffin. He was desperate for anyone besides Akabane. The urge still tugs at the corners of his mind, of course, but it’s not so bad now. Akabane is annoying and there’s never a day where they don’t squabble, but Gakushuu tolerates it. He is an obnoxious companion, but not a bad _person_ ; he does not judge Gakushuu for his manipulative megalomaniac tendencies, anyway, so neither of them have to hide anything. It’s nice to have a roommate who’s openly told him that if he kills someone, there’s a shovel in the closet to help with burying the corpse.

Gakushuu snaps out of his musing. Akabane’s talking.

“—In that time, we’ve learned a lot about each other. We’ve known each other for quite a while,” his roommate drawls. “So just call me Karma.”

Gakushuu pauses. “Fair enough. Call me Gakushuu.”

“Gakushuu, then. Goodnight, Gakushuu.”

“Goodnight, Karma.”

* * *

 On the morning of midterms, Gakushuu's studying on a bench in front of the library when Ren appears out of nowhere, an unusually heavy-looking backpack in tow. He glances up, his hair falling into his eyes. "How did you know where to find me?"

"Bothered your roommate," Ren says, sitting down next to him. "You're really going to study at seven in the morning?"

"I slept six hours last night, Mother," Gakushuu drawls. "And I know you sleep less."

"Don't call me that," Ren says, wincing. He tosses Gakushuu a banana, straight from his backpack.

Gakushuu peels off the skin and inhales its scent. It's sweet and fresh and when he takes a bite, he feels a bit more awake than before. No matter how hard he tries, he keeps mixing up the capital of Uzbekistan with the capital of Kazakhstan.

Ren raises an eyebrow when he brings it up. "Neither will be on the social studies exam."

"You never know."

Ren holds his gaze as he deliberately reaches over and shuts the textbook, dog-earing the bottom corner of the page as he does so.

Gakushuu looks at their hands resting on the textbook's cover. "I'm surprised Akabane didn't murder you for waking him up. He's a heavy sleeper. What did you do, set the hallway on fire?"

"I threw my math textbook at the door," Ren says. "Six times. He woke up and tried to tackle me, but his blankets got in the way and he became too tangled in them to move."

Gakushuu snickers at the image of Aka — Karma in a heap of blankets on the floor, helpless fury rolling off him in waves.

"Asano."

Gakushuu blinks. Principal Shichiro is approaching them, his silvery blonde hair shimmering in the May sun. He looks more polished than anyone is supposed to be at six-thirty in the morning, with his perfect eyebrows and immaculate suit. Gakushuu's a master of cleaning himself up at early hours, but Shichiro rivals his father in meticulousness.

"Principal," he says with a nod. They haven't seen each other often in the past month, considering that every time Gakushuu catches a glimpse of platinum blonde, he feels like breaking something fragile. "Good morning."

"It's good to see that you're as diligent as always," Shichiro says, nodding at the textbook. "You're ready for your exams?"

Gakushuu laughs, dark and low and sliding, like he would in a meeting with his father. _Murdering the principal would throw the school into chaos,_ he reminds himself. _You cannot ruin Kunugigaoka's social harmony._ "Of course."

"Good. I'm interested to see if you'll get back to your junior high streak. How is Akabane, by the way?"

"He's fine," Gakushuu replies with a dangerously sunny smile. "We've been getting along better than expected."

"Yes, I assumed so. Kiyomoto still passes stories around the staff room about your attempts to outdo each other in class, but I've stopped finding wasabi in my lunches, so it seems like you've made peace with each other."

A blink. "Pardon?”

"He's quite stubborn." Shichiro shrugs. "Wasabi in my food, traces of poison ivy on my suits, finding several of my files in ashes — although his replacements couldn't convince me I had a meeting in the basement at three AM. I still wonder what he had planned."

Locking Shichiro in there and holding him hostage until they agreed to switch roommates, probably. Gakushuu feels a flicker of respect for Karma's perseverance; it's quite admirable when it's not directed toward him.

"I didn't take it too personally," Shichiro continues casually, as if Karma's attacks weren't frighteningly personal. "Akabane and I were well-acquainted in junior high. He liked to stop by the math club on occasion; he was brighter than most of its members. I sure he can forgive me." A deliberate pause. "Your own attempts have been respectable as well."

Gakushuu stiffens.

"You locked me out of my computer for half an hour, what with all your failed password attempts." Shichiro glances at Ren.

 _He probably knows I was in his office._ Gakushuu could die right now. He needs to take his midterms first, though.

"Nevertheless, I'm pleased that the attempts have stopped in lieu of a more harmonious friendship. The confrontation in the courtyard with what's-his-name? The temperamental boy in your year. That looked good. Two forces joining together, and all that." Shichiro's already turning away. "I wish you good luck on your exams, Asano. And Sakakibara as well. Although I'm sure neither of you need it."

Ren makes a shallow comment about the weather. Gakushuu replies with another shallow comment. That's enough to get Shichiro out of earshot before they both give up any pretence of amiable conversation and Ren says, "I can't believe he hasn't expelled Akabane."

Gakushuu sighs. "He clearly likes him."

"That's a first for a teacher. Or any authority figure."

"I don't know. I think Kiyomoto likes him, too."

"She wouldn't like him if you weren't there."

"Why's that?"

Ren tilts his head. He has that _I think I've said something wrong_ look on his face, but Ren rarely lies to Gakushuu, even when Gakushuu likes to lie to everyone. "You serve to temper each other. Keep each other in check."

"Prevent me from utter control," Gakushuu says.

"Well." Ren's not denying it. "We should catch up with the others, Gakushuu."

At the door of the exam room, the other three are waiting for them. They're loud and boisterous and never hesitate to take up space, teasing each other and jeering at everyone else. When Gakushuu walks in, they perk up and greet him with raucous cheers, disregarding the annoyed classmates gathered in the hallway, still trying to study.

"Mornin', Asano," Koyama says with his trademark cackle. "Ready to crush the exams and show 'em who's boss?"

Gakushuu smiles. "Always."

At eight o'clock, it's time for the 1-A students to file into the exam room. The proctor shoos them in, calling out attendance. Their exams are laid out on the desks, and when Gakushuu touches his, it's still warm from the printer. _Mr. Maki,_ he thinks with amusement. The social studies teacher did like to do things last-minute.

The proctor reads out the rules in a monotone: don't look at anyone else's paper, write your name and the date, use clear handwriting, the usual. Akaba — _Karma_ sits at the end of the row Gakushuu's centred himself in. When Gakushuu glances over, the redhead catches his gaze. His face is strangely serious, his chin lowered and mercury eyes devoid of his typical trickster's humour.

 _I'm taking you down,_ he mouths.

"You may begin," the proctor says.

Gakushuu lowers his gaze to the paper with an even smile. He's been waiting all month for this.

* * *

On the third — and last — day of midterms, when Gakushuu exits the exam room with aching fingers and an undeniable craving for coffee, Karma’s fiddling with his phone in the hallway. Gakushuu thinks nothing of it until he glances at the white case and does a double take. “Is that _my_ phone?”

“Maybe.” Karma doesn’t look at him.

“Karma. Give that to me unless you want to leave the Japanese exam incomplete due to being too dead to take it.” Gakushuu stops in front of him. Karma is slouched against the dark wooden wall, making him look shorter than Gakushuu, even though they’re the same height. Gakushuu always does his best to loom over the redhead when it happens. “What in the world are you doing?”

Karma waves a hand. “Making it better. Why don’t you relax? It’s perfectly fine. I have no plans to break it.” He turns the phone around, revealing a normal home screen. The background hasn’t even been changed to anything indecent. “See? Here you go.”

Gakushuu snatches his phone out of Karma’s hand. “How long have you been out here?”

“Oh, about an hour?” Karma shrugs. Due to some poor scheduling on the school’s part, half of the 1-A class is taking the third day’s exams at different times from the other half. There’s no reason Karma should be anywhere near the exam rooms; his classmates are in the library, eating an early lunch, or making use of the school’s sports facilities, but here he is.

“Get a life,” Gakushuu says as he’s setting a new password for his phone. “Please, Karma. It’ll be beneficial to both of us.”

“Asano,” Araki says behind him. More students are emerging from the exam room, bleary-eyed with exhaustion. “Is everything okay?”

Gakushuu steps aside so he isn’t blocking the door. “It’s fine. Let’s get to the cafeteria. I could use a coffee right now.”

He pockets his phone. After he’s had his coffee, he can undo whatever damage Karma’s done.

* * *

_Seven days,_ Gakushuu thinks, staring down at his phone. _Seven days, and that’s far too few._

“I need more days away from you,” he says, flopping back on his bed. Before he became roommates with Akabane Karma, he would’ve sat down on it with nothing but the utmost grace, or paced back and forth across the floorboards as he plotted his next method of revenge. Karma is awful in every way, in terms of his influence on Gakushuu and his tendency to skip class and his disastrous sleeping patterns that keep Gakushuu awake too. And now this.

Karma renamed almost every single person in his contact list. Some are painfully obvious, like Koyama, who was _needs a dentist,_ or Ren, _wannabe japanese shakespeare._ He even renamed the Virtuosos’ groupchat to _#nerds,_ although Gakushuu will grudgingly admit it’s not one of their stranger names _._ Many of the others, though, Gakushuu doesn’t know. The references are too obscure. Maybe it’s some demented inside joke that Karma has with the universe, because those are the only two forces that could join together to make Gakushuu’s life such hell.

Of course, there’s a contact that hadn’t been there before. Gakushuu hits the message button for _#1,_ who he quickly renames, and texts him.

 _Who the fuck is the dog face emoji?  
_ Gakushuu Asano, 6:03 PM

 _it’s a puppy face, and it’s isogai, duh  
_ piece of utter fucking shit, 6:05 PM

 _Fast reply. It almost seems like you’ve been waiting for me to text you.  
_ Gakushuu Asano, 6:09 PM

 _I don’t even know who half these people are anymore.  
_ Gakushuu Asano, 6:09 PM

 _only bc i couldn’t wait for you to flip out <3 and me neither, why the fuck do you have the numbers of so many people you heartbreaker  
_piece of utter fucking shit, 6:10 PM

Gakushuu stares at his phone for a moment, then drops it onto the mattress before heading downstairs. He’s going to kick around a soccer ball for a while. He doesn’t need that hellchild in his life. He’s free for a week. An entire _week_ away from Karma, so he’s not wasting that time texting him.

“Asano,” his father calls out. “Dinner’s in twenty minutes.”

“Okay,” Gakushuu says, picking up the soccer ball by the door. As he kicks it around the darkening backyard, he wonders what Karma is doing right now. Setting things on fire, perhaps, or stealing candy from babies. Then he remembers that there’s no reason he should care.

“Asano!” His bedroom window slides open. His maid peers out into the backyard, holding his phone in one hand and a broom in the other. “Someone’s calling you.”

“Who is it?”

“Um.” She frowns at the screen. _“No one cares about Los Angeles?”_

It takes Gakushuu a moment to realise that’s the nickname Karma inputted. He groans and steadies the soccer ball beneath his foot. “Toss it to me.”

“Are you sure, Asano? It’s a long fall—”

“Just drop it down.”

His maid shrugs and drops it down. Gakushuu darts forward, catches it, and raises it to his ear. “Seo. What’s up?”

Seo is not the kind of person to call him to make small talk, and Gakushuu appreciates it. “You left your math textbook behind at school,” Seo says. “Want me to come over to drop it off?”

“Hm. I don’t think I’ll need it over the break — well, no, it doesn’t hurt to get ahead. Sure. Tomorrow? I won’t be going anywhere.”

“Yes, that’s fine. And, Asano—” There’s a pause on the other end.

“What?”

“Can I ask why there are so many doodles in a hand that clearly isn’t yours? Some of them are pretty vulgar. And distinctly phallic.”

Gakushuu reaches deep, deep down for that well of patience he’s trained into himself. It seems like his first trimester of high school has drained all of it away, and they’re barely halfway through. He exhales. “Akabane, unfortunately. He has no respect for others’ property.”

“Well.” Seo’s voice is just a little on the side of sympathetic. “As long as the teachers don’t see it. You sound used to it.”

“I’ve grown used to a lot of things,” says Gakushuu, staring down at his phone. Karma’s cutesy nickname isn’t too far off the mark, and for a brief, ridiculous moment, Gakushuu considers keeping it. He _does_ like his friends, though. Sometimes. He fancies himself a bit kinder than this. “Thanks, Seo. Oh, and since you’re calling me — I have to tutor Amori tomorrow for English. Do you mind taking over for me?”

Seo clucks his tongue. “She’ll be crushed.”

“Hardly. Your skill and dedication to English is unrivalled. I’d be thrilled to have you as a tutor if I were her.” _Not that I’d ever need tutoring,_ Gakushuu thinks, but Seo's aware of that.

“Asano, you surely can’t be _that_ oblivious. She doesn’t want you because of your English skills.”

“Well.” Gakushuu actually _didn’t_ know that. He does now. He files the information away in the back of his head for future reference. “I suppose I should make it clear that I’m not interested.”

“You know that she won’t take the hint if I take over tomorrow.”

Some girls are easily turned down by artful excuses and running away, but Amori probably isn’t one of them. Gakushuu sighs. “I see your point. I’ll talk to her tomorrow. Thanks, Seo.”

“No problem.” The phone beeps as Seo hangs up.

It’s dinnertime by now, and Gakushuu nudges his soccer ball to rest against the wall. He drops his phone on a side table. The maid is setting down the plates. “We’re almost done, Asano,” the cook says, giving him a nod.

Gakushuu nods back. His father joins him at the table a moment later, his own phone tucked against his ear. “Yes?” he’s saying. “Yes, of course. That would be lovely, thank you. Of course.”

Gakushuu pauses to glance at him as Asano Sr. hangs up. “How is school, Gakushuu?”

“It’s fine,” Gakushuu says. His fingers reach for his fork, wanting to toy with it, but he stifles the urge. “You’ve seen my report card.”

“Indeed,” Father hums. Gakushuu tries not to think about not addressing Asano Sr. as _Principal_ in his head anymore. Or aloud, for that matter. “But I’m not concerned about your grades. You’ve done quite well in all your classes.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“And midterms? Results for those come out on Monday.”

“They went well. Nothing particularly caught my eye.”

The cook starts putting down plates of food on the table. Father picks up his fork and taps it against his plate in contemplation, but doesn’t say anything else. Gakushuu’s phone rings.

“Sorry,” he says, getting up. It’s the notification for a text, not a call. It can be delayed. “I forgot to put my phone on vibrate.”

 _So what’s with our new chat name?  
_ wannabe japanese shakespeare in #nerds, 6:35 PM

It would not be entirely amiss had it been Seo or Ren, but Gakushuu never touches the chat name. Let his followers have their fun. He sighs. Normally, he would set his phone on vibrate and return to dinner, but it doesn’t take long to reply.

 _Akabane.  
_ Gakushuu Asano in #nerds, 6:36 PM

The remainder of dinner goes by in a blur. Conversation with Father is almost — awkward, nowadays. Of course, the Asanos have too much charm to really make conversation awkward; it’s just that Gakushuu is too much on his guard. He’s always ready for a cool jab or a stinging criticism of his hotheadedness, his inability to lead, his lack of diplomacy. He’s not used to Father being _Father,_ making small talk about school and updating Gakushuu on how his own work is going. He mentions that Mother is visiting them soon.

The older Asano finishes dinner first. He rises from the table, already reaching for his phone. “I have several more calls to make,” he says, nodding at Gakushuu. Then he returns to his study.

Gakushuu didn’t let tension creep into his posture — Karma had made him especially good at that, actually, from all the times Gakushuu needed to hide his annoyance — but still, he feels himself relax a bit anyway. He takes one more bite, decides he’s done, and goes back to his room.

_It only seems like a lot of people to you because you have no friends._

Gakushuu Asano, 7:20 PM

 _): anyone i’m friends w/ should be honored to have such a blessing in their lives  
_ piece of utter fucking shit, 7:21 PM

 _Again with the alarmingly fast replies, Karma. You’re only proving my point about having no friends, as if spending a solid hour renaming people on your roommate’s phone just to annoy him wasn’t enough evidence.  
_ Gakushuu Asano, 7:23 PM

 _i mean  
_ piece of utter fucking shit, 7:24 PM

 _i’m pretty bored right now_ _. parents, Second Place, parents  
_ piece of utter fucking shit, 7:24 PM

Ah. Gakushuu sympathizes with that, at least to the extent he’s capable of doing so. He’s mostly convinced his ability to sympathize is dead.

 _I understand that problem. Holidays do tend to be that way. However, if you’re that bored, you can help me figure out who everyone is.  
_ Gakushuu Asano, 7:25 PM

 _nah  
_ piece of utter fucking shit, 7:25 PM

Gakushuu rolls his eyes. He navigates away to his contacts and hits the call button for someone whose name is a crocodile emoji. What Karma means by _that,_ he has no idea.

“Hello, who is this? I’m not quite sure if I have the right number. . .”

* * *

In July, Nagisa Shiota comes to visit.

They received their midterms results a week before, and Gakushuu’s been happy for days on end about his 495 — to Karma’s 490.

Karma pretends boredom every time Gakushuu brings it up, so when he _skips_ into the dorm room looking excited for the first time that week, Gakushuu's a little startled and immediately on his guard. "What have you done now?" he asks warily.

"Don't be so suspicious," Karma says airily. "I'm actually innocent this time. Nagisa!"

A slim blue-haired boy steps into the room, surveying it with practiced caution. "Hi, Asano," he says politely. "Nice to see you again."

It's not hard to recall Shiota. Seo mentioned him a few times in his angry mutterings about Rio Nakamura and _how dare she steal my spot, she's not even that good at English and no one else in that class is either,_ and whenever Gakushuu saw Karma back in junior high, Shiota was often at his side. Karma's mentioned him enough times that Gakushuu isn't quick to dismiss him, despite his unassuming appearance.

Murmuring a polite greeting, Gakushuu turns to Karma. The redhead's smile is faint, but sincere. "Is Shiota visiting for the day?"

Karma smirks, all sincerity gone in a second. "He's simply staying for the evening. We couldn't find another time to visit each other, I'm afraid. I didn't smuggle him onto the campus, if you're concerned. I've filled out all the forms."

"I wasn't concerned."

"Of course you weren't."

There's a brief silence. Gakushuu looks back and forth between Shiota, who's perched on Karma's bed, and Karma, who's lingering in the doorway. It would be easy enough to talk to them, or just go back to studying, but — they _are_ best friends, and they haven't seen each other in a while.

"Well," Gakushuu says breezily. "I'm about to go out to shoot a few hoops. See you, Karma. And Shiota." He stands up, tucking his phone and key into his pocket, and gives them both an airy wave. "Whatever Karma tells you about me, Shiota, it's not true."

Karma pouts. "And here I was about to extol your countless virtues."

"I'm sure you were, _Number Two_." Gakushuu slips out the door and closes it, just as he hears Karma say loudly, "And he has the most obsessive cleaning habits, did you know? Yesterday, he vacuumed—"

There's a few boys already at the basketball court, and they're glad to see him. They play games together until Gakushuu's about to drop from exhaustion. He excuses himself to the bench, sweaty and pleasantly sore, where he studies a set of flashcards on his phone until it's too dark to comfortably look at the screen.

* * *

He heads back to the dorm at ten forty-five, toeing it closer to curfew than he has since Koyama accidentally blew something up in the chemistry lab — _I do biology, I wasn’t prepared for this, Asano!_ — and the two of them were responsible for charming Ms. Ashida into not suspending them on top of cleaning up. Not that anyone knows about that incident.

“Have you talked to Kayano recently?” Karma’s saying as Gakushuu nudges the door open.

“Not really,” Shiota responds. “She hasn’t had much time to talk to anyone, what with juggling high school and her acting career. I don’t want to bother her.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be _bothering_ her. She’d love to see you.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Are you sure?” Karma’s voice is gleeful as he brings something up on his phone. His screen’s angled away from Gakushuu, so it’s impossible to catch a glimpse. “Or do I need to remind you?”

“What is — get that away from me! Stop!” Shiota hits him over the head with a pillow.

Karma only laughs and yanks the pillow out of his hands, getting ready to retaliate, when he stiffens. “Gakushuu.”

“Hello,” Gakushuu says, easing the door the rest of the way open.

He expects a sharp jab, but Karma just grins at him. “How was it?” he asks conversationally, waiting until Shiota’s focused on Gakushuu too, before whacking him with the pillow so hard Shiota actually falls over and emits a muffled _ow!_

“It was fine.” Gakushuu sits down in his chair, ready to bury himself in his civics notes, when the bed creaks behind him.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Karma calls out, disappearing into the hallway.

Gakushuu wonders if this is deliberate, though he can’t fathom why. Shiota isn’t visibly uncomfortable as they study each other, the petite boy’s eyes bright and sharp as he sits up, the pillow held to his chest.

“Has Karma been okay here?” Shiota asks, tilting his head. He looks so _solemn._

Gakushuu raises his eyebrows. “I’m not the best person to ask. He has other friends here.”

“You live with him. You’ve always been smart, Asano,” Shiota says placidly. “I’m sure you can read him. I think he’s doing just fine, but a confirmation would be nice.”

“He’s doing fine,” Gakushuu says. _Exceedingly well, since he’s been given all these chances to torment me,_ he thinks, but he doesn’t know Shiota and they aren’t enemies anymore. That reminds him. “Has your old class been doing well? I know none of them stayed here except Karma, but I’m sure they’ve continued to be the achievers they were in junior high.”

Shiota eyes him, trying to detect whether it’s a taunt. It’s not. Some of the sharpness leaves his gaze. “Yes, they have. My school’s break is at a different time from most other people’s, so I’ve been able to visit a few old friends besides Karma. You remember Isogai and Kataoka?”

“Yes, of course.”

“They’re the brightest in their year now. Top marks.”

“I’m not surprised,” Gakushuu says. He kind of misses the two of them. The class representatives for this trimester are far from his favorite, and since he’s student president for the entire year, he can only hope next trimester’s will be more competent.

“I also saw Sugino. I don’t know if you know him, he’s good at baseb — wait.” Shiota turns toward the doorway, eyes narrowing. He lays a finger to his lips.

Gakushuu watches him tiptoe over to the patch of wall next to the door. He’s terrifyingly stealthy; if Karma was that quiet, Gakushuu probably would’ve fallen for one of his smoke bomb or firecracker attacks by now.

A few seconds later, the door opens, swinging to hide Shiota. Gakushuu didn’t even hear any footsteps. Karma saunters in, an easy smirk plastered on his face. “Nagisa?” he calls, looking around, and that’s when the blue-haired boy attacks.

He charges out from behind the door with an expression of steely determination on his face, pillow in hand. Karma turns fast enough to see him coming, but Shiota even _runs_ silently, his feet barely skimming the floorboards, and he tackles the redhead.

“Okay, okay,” Karma gasps beneath Shiota. “Nagisa, get off me. I — _ah!_ ” He sneezes as a trail of feathers drifts into the air.

Gakushuu stares. Karma is 175 centimetres, same as Gakushuu, and outweighs Shiota by a quite a bit. Yet here he is, helpless on the ground as the boy mercilessly beats him with the pillow, both laughing so hard they can’t breathe until Karma finally succeeds in throwing him off — is that a _chokehold_ Shiota has him in, and should Gakushuu try to help? Hasn’t he been trying to get rid of Karma since school started anyway?

“It’s almost eleven,” Karma wheezes through Shiota’s grip.

He’s instantly released as Shiota checks his watch. “Oh, no.” His expression darkens. “My mom’s probably already here. She might be upset.”

Karma frowns. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, no. She’s annoyed that I insisted on coming here at such an inconvenient time already.” Shiota runs a hand through his pigtails self-consciously. Gakushuu notices that although he’s had a few months to let them grow, they’re the same length as they were back in junior high, if not shorter. Interesting. “It’s okay, Karma. It was good seeing you. And wait, did I break your pillow?”

“It’s no big deal,” Karma says, inspecting the feathers littered across the floor.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just steal Gakushuu’s.”

“No, you won’t,” Gakushuu says. “You’ll sleep with your broken pillow.”

Karma smirks at him. Gakushuu turns to his paper-covered desk so the redhead doesn’t see him rolling his eyes. When he turns back around, Shiota’s gone, silent as a shadow.

“By the way,” Karma says. He closes the door. “Thanks for leaving us alone back there, when we wanted to talk. It was nice of you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Gakushuu says wryly, and goes back to civics.

* * *

The burnout is inevitable.

The past few weeks have been nothing short of hell. Gakushuu was certain that he could handle his work without a problem — he'd pulled it off in junior high, although not without emptying every store in a three-kilometre radius of coffee beans — but high school was a different story. It's eleven PM, and he finds himself staring up at the ceiling, his brain fuzzy with caffeine as he tries to comprehend the English vocabulary he'd taped up there. (Even when he's about to fall asleep, he insists on studying, but sleep is at best a delusion right now.)

"Ga-ku-shuu," Karma sings out. Across the room, he pauses in carefully annotating his social studies textbook. "What's the matter? You're a puddle of exhaustion."

Gakushuu hates showing weakness around anyone, let alone his roommate, but despair is overwhelming him. He sinks deeper into the blankets. "This is too much for me."

"What is?"

"School. Life. The lack of free time that prevents me from inventing a fertilizer for more potent coffee beans. Everything."

Karma hums and says nothing, which is the best thing for Gakushuu right now, because if he dared to sneak in a remark about Gakushuu's incompetency and/or inferiority, blood would be shed. If Gakushuu even has the energy to shed blood. The thought of so much as cleaning himself up afterward exhausts him.

It's not until thirteen days later, when Gakushuu walks in at nine after an exhausting tutoring session that almost made both tutor and tutee cry, that Karma puts his foot down. Or at least, Gakushuu is pretty sure that's what he's doing.

"Have you had the time to even _start_ your homework?" his roommate drawls, glancing up from his video game as Gakushuu trudges into the room.

"Leave it, Karma." Gakushuu flops down on the bed.

"I'm not making fun of you. You have circles under your eyes deep enough to swim in."

Gakushuu doesn't bother glaring at him. "It's good to know that I look like shit. Thank you for enlightening me."

" _Gakushuu,_ " Karma says, and it's still playful, but it's not mocking. "This is ridiculous. No one is as stressed as you are. You slept four and a half hours last night."

"If you're about to tell me to chill out, I must inform you that you have the least chill of anyone I've ever met."

"True," Karma concedes, "but come on. Look at that calendar." He nods toward the schedule Gakushuu taped onto the wall.

"I've long noticed your annotations, yes."

Karma has several lovely doodles on Gakushuu's schedule, including a skull next to the heading _Monday,_ a pair of devil horns wherever Father's name is mentioned, and a fire that consumes half the week. He's added his own small list of to-do's at the bottom titled _Asano Translator._ There's three tasks: "kiss ass," "terrify small children," and "kick puppies."

Gakushuu really needs to buy more white-out.

Karma waves a hand. "That's not what I'm referring to. Look at your _own_ writing, golden boy. You're working on three tutees, five extra classes, and two sports. That's called _excessive._ I know you don't like thinking you're anything less than superhuman, but frankly, you've bitten off more than you can chew." Gakushuu doesn't react, so he adds as an afterthought, "Also, I put spiders in your bed and you haven't taken the time to notice."

Five seconds later, Karma is clawing at his neck as his roommate attempts to strangle him with spider-infested bedsheets.

"I despise you," Gakushuu says, dizzy as the adrenaline rush leaves him as abruptly as it arrived. He can’t be bothered to scold his roommate about the rule of the red boundary. "I don't have time to sate your craving for attention."

"That's the greatest tragedy of all," Karma chokes out, the veins showing in his face. "Do you really need those twice-a-week guitar lessons when you're perfect at it anyway?"

"If you understood the difficulty it takes to master an instrument—"

"I'm trying to get you to _rest,_ you overachieving idiot!"

Gakushuu pauses at the thought of that, allowing Karma to slip out of his chokehold. "You're showing concern for me."

"You're always tired. It's _boring._ "

Gakushuu's lips quirk into a smile. "You're worried about me."

Karma huffs.

"As touched as I am," Gakushuu says, sliding off Karma's bed, "I have to work. I still haven't looked over Kiyomoto's math packet."

"Don't wake up at six tomorrow."

He frowns. "I won't have time to check over my homework. It's harder for me to concentrate late at night, so my work isn't as good. It's more important than ever to check it in the mornings."

"I'll do it for you."

Gakushuu's already sitting down at his desk, fighting off his weary resignation, when he drops his pen with a clatter. "What?"

"Your own stupid moral code wouldn't let you just copy off me," Karma says impatiently, "but I'll check your homework at you. Wake up at seven-fifteen for once, instead of six. No one else wakes up at six, not even your demented friends. I'll wake up at the same time as you and check your homework. Okay?"

Gakushuu's mind is reeling. Karma is being helpful. This isn't the typical reluctant compromise that comes with living with someone else; there's nothing in it for him. He's offering to wake up thirty minutes earlier than he usually does, with no benefits. "But I still have to—"

"No. No, you do not need to check that you've packed everything correctly, because you always do. You do not need to check the syllabus, because you've spat it back at me verbatim. You do not need to sweep your side of the room, because it is already spotless. Quite frankly, seventy percent of your morning routine is bullshit, and I cannot believe you haven't sacrificed any of it in lieu of a few extra minutes of sleep. The zombie eyes don't suit you, Gakushuu."

Gakushuu stares at him for a moment, using the bleary eyes in question. "Are you done?"

" _Furthermore,_ you don't need to check your homework before going to bed, because I am a flawless checker and will therefore fix everything in the morning." Karma sits back, brushing spiders off his arms. "I'm done."

Gakushuu scrubs his face with his hands. He's about to cry. Whether from amusement, relief, or exhaustion, he doesn't know. Still, his voice is even as he says, "If I agree to this, will you shut up and leave me alone? And dispose of those spiders?"

"Aye-aye, invincible leader," Karma drawls.

It's relief.

* * *

Gakushuu skims his assignments in homeroom, making sure Karma did his job. Everything's correct, save for a few errors, which Karma crossed out in neat black pen and written the right answer next to. He even attempted to make his handwriting look like Gakushuu's, and it's passable enough Kiyomoto will fall for it.

A yellow sticky note is pasted at the bottom of the last page of his math packet. Gakushuu lifts an eyebrow. It's titled _today's math homework, #1-5,_ with worked-out solutions. He glances at the back of the classroom, where Karma is reclining in his typical delinquent pose. The redhead inclines his head in acknowledgment.

Gakushuu lets the corner of his mouth twitch up, just a little.

* * *

One sunny weekend in September, Karma is dozing on the bed when Gakushuu marches into the room and announces, "Get up. We're going to the store."

The redhead opens one eyelid. He does not get up like Gakushuu ordered him to. "Care to tell me why?"

"Because the cafeteria coffeemaker has been broken for _two days,_ " Gakushuu says, enunciating each word with as much precision as when aiming a gun. "Two days. Forty-eight hours. Two thousand eight hundred eighty minutes. One hundred seventy-two thousand—"

"You're the only one who drinks coffee in here," Karma says, gesturing at the pack of juice boxes on his desk. "Why do I have to come along?"

"Because you _do_ drink coffee."

"No, I don't. It tastes like shit."

"You drink coffee on the nights before exams," Gakushuu clarifies. "When you've emptied the vending machine of strawberry juice and you're not allowed off campus because it's past curfew. Since I've known you to resort to drinking coffee — _my_ coffee, to be exact — this will be a joint effort between the two of us. Especially because midterms are coming up again next month.”

Karma groans. "Don’t remind me. What if I promised you I wouldn't touch your coffee?"

"I wouldn't believe you."

He heaves a sigh. "Yeah. That's a smart move. When are we leaving for the store?"

"Now."

Karma slumps deeper into his nest of blankets. "It's a nice, sunny Saturday afternoon. We _just_ got back from six weeks of summer vacation. There couldn't be better napping weather if—"

Gakushuu yanks the blanket off the bed, ignoring the redhead's noises of complaint as he's dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. "We're going _now_."

"My hair is a mess."

" _You're_ a mess. As always." Gakushuu snags Karma's wrist and heaves him upwards. "Let's go."

Karma stumbles drowsily through the campus, trailing behind Gakushuu like a confused puppy and complaining the entire way about how he could be sleeping right now. They sign out at the gate – the security guard looks at Karma with keen amusement — and Gakushuu drags him over to the nearest supermarket, which is thankfully within walking distance.

“I doubt I’ll drink more than twenty cups of coffee by the end of this year,” Karma grumbles as he shuffles into an aisle of household appliances. There’s an entire section dedicated to coffeemakers. “That’s more than you drink in a _day_.”

“I limit myself to three cups, actually,” Gakushuu says drily. He taps on a large, polished one with one or two dozen different dials and buttons. “What do you think of this?”

Karma rubs his eyes. “Do we really need something that complicated?”

“They all have clear labels.”

“Let’s go with this one, okay?” Karma points at a small, dinky-looking thing that Gakushuu could swear is for dolls, not real people.

“Don’t be an idiot. It would take three runs to brew enough coffee for one cup.”

“It’s cheap.”

“Like either of us don’t have money?”

A new voice interrupts. “Asano!”

Gakushuu turns, wide-eyed with shock. He hasn’t heard that voice in several months, since its owner goes to a different high school, but here he is, when Gakushuu thought he’d probably never see him ever again. “ _Sato?_ ”

“I thought it was you!” the boy says, rounding the corner into the aisle. He’s slightly taller than both Gakushuu and Karma, with short dark hair, bright green eyes, and soft features that were always reminiscent of a cute animal, like a puppy or kitten. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”

Gakushuu smiles at him. The last time they’d met, Sato had been shorter than Gakushuu, and the height difference is disconcerting. “I’m still attending Kunugigaoka. Where have you gone off to?”

Sato smiles back. It lights up his entire face and brings a glow to his eyes. “I’m at Keisetsu! We should catch up sometime. I miss talking to you.”

“We should,” Gakushuu agrees. “What are you doing here?”

“My little sister’s learning to bake, and she made me run all the way over here because she insists that they have a specific brand of chocolate our local supermarket doesn’t have.” Sato shakes his head ruefully. “What about you?”

“Oh, sorry. I forgot to introduce Karma.” Gakushuu nods to the redhead, who’s doing a not-so-subtle assessment of Sato. He wants to tell Karma that it’s not going unnoticed. “Karma, this is an old friend of mine, Daiki Sato. You might remember him. He was the student council vice president last year. Sato, this is my roommate at Kunugigaoka, Karma Akabane.”

Sato bumps fists with Karma. “Great to meet you. What’s up?”

“We’re looking for a coffeemaker right now,” Karma says, tilting his head. He gives Sato an easygoing grin, and oh no, that’s the _time to embarrass Gakushuu_ look. Gakushuu subtly steps onto his foot, his smile widening at the barely-stifled yelp of pain.

“Coffeemakers?” Sato laughs. “Asano always was too fond of his coffee. Hope you’re teaching him to take a break every now and then.”

Karma blinks, long and slow, and ah, that’s the _I’ve discovered something fascinating_ look, and Gakushuu, with no idea what that something is, doesn’t like it, either. The last time he saw it, it was when they were in Koyama’s room and Karma found several bubbling poisons tucked in the back of the closet. Koyama’s only defence was, _It’s science._

“I assure you, I’m doing that regardless,” Gakushuu says, just as Karma blurts out, “What about this one?”

Gakushuu’s eye twitches as he looks down at the even smaller, dinkier, cheaper coffeemaker that’s been indicated. He _knows_ Karma is doing this on purpose. “That’s highly impractical.”

“Why?” Sato asks.

“It won’t brew enough coffee in one go to be time-efficient,” Gakushuu says, slightly horrified that he has to explain this to someone he calls a friend. “It’ll likely break down within six months.”

“That one?”

This one is less dinky, but someone needs to clean it up, and it’s still too small. “You’re getting warmer, but still no.”

Karma gives Sato a glance that screams _pity me for having to live with this loser_. Sato chuckles.

“If you’re insistent on something cheap,” Gakushuu says, frowning at both of them, “I’ll settle for this one.” He points at a sleek, decently sized coffeemaker that he’s sure won’t break down for a long time. He’s heard good things about this brand. 

Karma sighs and shakes his head. “That one, then. Sato, it was nice to meet you, but since we’re taking this one, we’ll have to go now. Oh, except for one thing. Gakushuu, I need to buy myself a coffee mug. Be right back!”

Before they know it, Karma’s zipped away, off to find a mug when, as he said, he doesn’t even drink coffee that often. Not that Gakushuu’s complaining, since he won’t have to share his own mug.

“Well,” Sato says, still smiling. They’re standing alone in the aisle now. “Your roommate seems nice, Asano.”

 _Since when did Sato become such a horrible judge of character?_ Gakushuu lifts the coffeemaker off its shelf and cradles it in his arms. “Yes, he is,” he lies. “Quite a troublemaker, though.”

“I’m sure you balance out those tendencies. You always did stop me from running into mischief.”

“Oh, you never would’ve run into it regardless. The teachers loved you.”

Sato runs a hand through his hair. “Ah, but they loved you far more.” A pause. “You know, I have to leave now, too. My sister will be grumpy if I don’t get back soon, but — you should text me sometime, all right? I know you’re always busy—”

“I will,” Gakushuu promises. There’s no harm in it. Sato’s at another school now, and lives far enough away they won’t run into each other again. “See you, then.”

He finds Karma three aisles down, staring intensely at a bright pink coffee mug patterned with strawberries. Karma grabs it off the shelf and turns before Gakushuu can greet him.

"Why does Sato make you uncomfortable?"

The question is so sudden and aimed with such precision, Gakushuu almost drops the coffeemaker. He steadies his grip. "How could you tell?"

Karma shrugs. "Several months of living with you and reading your body language and facial expressions? You get this little twitch around the eyes, even when there's a smile on your face. He’s so sweet to you, too, but he’s close enough to you he can tease you instead of scraping and bowing. The guy gives off serious Isogai vibes."

 _Impressive._ Karma’s analysis of their relationship is scarily accurate, too. _Oh, well. It's a harmless enough question._ "We’re friendly. We don't have bad history or anything like that; he's my ex."

Karma's forehead creases. "Your ex?"

"Yes. My old boyfriend. We broke up amicably, but there's still some lingering awkwardness." A frown. Karma’s face is quiet with contemplation. “Is there something confusing about that?”

“I thought you were straight,” he says.

Gakushuu arches his eyebrows. Of all the things he thought Karma would say, that wasn’t one of them. The question of sexuality is a years-old one he doesn’t often concern himself with anymore. He prefers to handle it more on a case-by-case basis. “I’m bi.”

“Oh,” Karma says, almost awkwardly. “Okay, well. I’m gay.”

The corner of Gakushuu’s mouth lifts up. “I figured. I could tell that you weren’t straight, at least, from the way you behaved around Shiota.”

Karma blushes. Actually _blushes._ It’s no meek shade of pink, either. His entire face turns tomato red, and it’s kind of adorable. “I don’t—“

“Don’t worry,” Gakushuu says, smiling even more. God, he wishes he had a camera with him right now. He didn’t think Karma Akabane was capable of being anything less than utterly shameless. “I won’t tell him. He’s too dense to figure it out, anyway.”

“That’s not—“ Karma starts. “We’re not like that anymore. I used to feel that way, but I’ve moved on.”

 _Hm._ “I believe you.”

Karma’s blush lessens, so Gakushuu adds, “But if I ever see Shiota again—“

“Give me an advance warning,” the redhead says. “I require at least twenty-four hours to prepare for an assassination.”

* * *

October midterms arrive. They both score a 498.

Karma’s and Gakushuu’s social studies exams lie side by side on the desk; a red _100_ is scrawled at the top of Karma’s paper, while Gakushuu missed two marks, the only points he lost in all of midterms. On the opposite side of the room is Gakushuu’s Japanese exam, where Karma lost _his_ two marks, but the redhead isn’t paying attention to them. He drums his fingers against his desk, his earphones leaking obnoxiously loud rock music as he stares out the window.

“You said you still wanted to know about my class’s secret,” he says suddenly.

Gakushuu glances over his shoulder, twirling a pen between his fingers. “Pardon?”

“Monday. I asked you if you still wanted to know about the secret of last year’s End Class. You said yes.”

Ah. The memory resurfaces. Karma said he’d reveal everything in person, since they were on break, but when Gakushuu came back to school, he’d forgotten it entirely. “You’d like to tell me now, I assume?”

“If you have the time. You can finish looking over the social studies exam first.”

Gakushuu’s lips quirk into a wry smile. “What a rare moment of consideration, Karma. Just tell me now.”

Karma pats the bed. “Come sit next to me first.”

That’s a little strange, but clearly, whatever secret Karma’s about to spill is strange too. Gakushuu obeys.

A reminiscent smile slides onto Karma’s face. He slurps away at his juice box. “Our teacher was a giant yellow octopus.”

If Gakushuu had brought his coffee from his desk over to Karma’s bed, he would’ve choked. As it is, he remains composed, merely raising his eyebrows. “I’m sorry?”

“Well, he wasn’t that giant,” Karma amends. “He was a lot taller than me, but he could squeeze through doorways without crawling.”

“Thank you for clarifying,” Gakushuu says, mapping out the quickest route to the nurse, just in case Karma has come down with something. Sure, he acknowledges Karma might actually be telling the truth, but he’s going to need more details. “And this semi-giant yellow octopus did what?”

“Oh, he was a really good teacher, that’s all.”

Gakushuu stills his expression into one of openness and curiosity, rather than disbelief. “Yes?”

So Karma opens his mouth and _really_ tells Gakushuu about Korosensei. About his Mach-20 speed; the 3-E students’ attempts to assassinate him; all the misadventures he’d dragged his students into; his dark past, which didn’t match up to a monster who smiled so constantly and who was so enthusiastic; the support he’d offered at school festivals and activities that had stumped the student body. Karma tells Gakushuu about how his father knew all along, the tension that had crackled between the two teachers and that time Gakuhou had showed up with five grenades and left having learned something new. (“I remember,” Gakushuu says. “I didn’t know that that was what he was doing.”) Karma tells Gakushuu about what was really behind the enormous glowing lasers slicing through that warm March night. Then his voice cracks.

“I’m sorry,” he says, blinking, and holy shit, is Karma Akabane _crying_? No, no, he’s not, Gakushuu decides, looking away, but he knows that’s the closest Karma will ever get to tears for as long as they’ll know each other. Gakushuu’s at a loss for words.

It’s not like he doesn’t know how to comfort someone. He’s a leader, and leaders take care of their people. He’s extended his sympathy and strength to everyone from his teachers to his classmates to the Virtuosos in the rare moments Ms. Kiyomoto’s having a bad day or Ren can’t bring himself to tease Gakushuu like he usually does. But in this room, Gakushuu isn’t anybody’s leader, because Karma is his equal.

All he can do is wait. Karma doesn’t take long, turning back to him with eyes that are bright with mischief, as usual, but harder. “So now you know,” he says flippantly.

Gakushuu considers this. “I believe you,” he says. “Thank you for telling me.”

Karma just sighs. “You would’ve found out eventually. But—” He cocks his head. “Thanks for listening to me.”

* * *

Gakushuu’s in the middle of reviewing a set of flashcards on math formulas when a loud, blaring alarm goes off from somewhere in the wasteland that’s Karma’s bed. Gakushuu is fifteen — sixteen in a few weeks — and brilliant and terrifying and the son of the former principal, thank you, he is an _Asano,_ so he doesn’t yelp or fall out of his chair or anything of the sort.

It does make him flinch, though.

What’s even more surprising is that when Karma roots around for his phone and actually gets ahold of it, he doesn’t hit snooze. Instead, he dismisses it, sits up with a yawn, and blinks at Gakushuu with his hair sticking up in six different directions. It’s kind of cute. Really cute, actually. Gakushuu admits to himself that he’s starting to find Karma more attractive than he should, with the _should_ being _not at all_.

“Good morning,” Karma says.

“You can go back to sleep,” Gakushuu replies, in case of the nearly nonexistent possibility that Karma isn’t planning anything nasty. “It’s seven o’clock.”

“Oh, I know. Come on. We’re skipping class today.”

Gakushuu’s expression flattens. “Sorry, did I just hear _we’re_?”

“You did.” Karma grabs a comb from somewhere in his nest of blankets and rakes it through his hair in short, rough strokes. He tucks his phone into his pocket, throws on a jacket that he slung over the back of his chair, and hops to his feet. Gakushuu knows his roommate usually half-rolls, half-falls his way out of bed, and the unusual energy unnerves him. When he loops his arm through Gakushuu’s like a cheerful kindergartener excited to go to school and tries to yank him to his feet, Gakushuu almost takes out his eye with the edge of a flashcard.

Karma frowns at his expression. “Calm down. I promise this isn’t part of my plot to murder you.”

“Then kindly explain why on Earth you think I’m skipping class.”

He shrugs. “Because we’ve already done more than enough studying, nothing ever happens on the last day before finals except more review, and you need to loosen up and have some fun.”

Gakushuu dislikes the fact those are all valid reasons. He dislikes Karma in general, no matter how pretty his face is.

“Be a _teenager._ It’s a well-known fact that teenagers love playing hooky and being unproductive, and that that is what considered ‘cool.’”

“No, it’s not. You’ve been reading too many American novels.”

“If it consoles you, I promise to deliberately miss one point this finals, in case you think you’re actually missing something valuable on the last day of review,” Karma offers.

“That’s not the kind of victory I’m looking for.”

Karma looks at him for a second, then flops down on Gakushuu’s bed, sighing so hard that Gakushuu actually _feels_ his breath all the way from the desk. It smells bad, too.

“You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly perfect,” Gakushuu says with a smile that’s more a flash of teeth.

“Right, and I’m obviously ruining that because of one missed day of school? No one will notice. I _promise._ ” Karma’s eyes go all wide in a poor imitation of a puppy’s. He looks more like someone surprised him really badly.

Gakushuu hates that he thinks it’s cute anyway. “Yes, they will. People expect me to help them for review. I have a tutoring session today—”

Karma rolls his eyes. “ _One day._ I’ll bring you back by curfew, and you can reschedule for the weekend. I’m not up to any tricks.”

Gakushuu pauses, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. There’s Karma’s sincere _I’m innocent and horribly wounded that you would suggest otherwise, Ms. Favourite Teacher_ voice and then there’s Karma’s _sincere_ voice. Which Gakushuu’s heard approximately twice in his entire life.

“Fine. But bring me back by _seven_.”

Karma’s entire face lights up like a sunrise, and damn, Gakushuu almost can’t say no to that look. _Almost_. He sucks in a breath.

It’s not like he has a crush on his roommate or anything. Not even Gakushuu can fuck up life that badly.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” Karma chirps with unnatural sunniness, springing upright from his bed and snagging Gakushuu’s arm. “You need to learn just how amazing it is to be a delinquent, Gakushuu. It’s not like you’re too good to be one. Evil enough to kick me in the head that one time during pole-toppling, but not evil enough to skip school?”

“Wait, wait—” Gakushuu’s fumbling for his wallet, his phone, _something_ for a measure of safety lest Karma really does kidnap him, but they’re already out the door.

* * *

_I’m not going to be at school today. Don’t let anyone come to my room. Tell Ms. Kiyomoto_ privately _that I’m sick.  
_ Gakushuu Asano in Can Kiyomoto stop talking about the beauty of Euler’s constant?, 7:04 AM

 _We will.  
_ Teppei Araki in Can Kiyomoto stop talking about the beauty of Euler’s constant?, 7:05 AM

No questions asked. Gakushuu’s always appreciated that, and he appreciates it now, as he stands at the curb while Karma tries to catch a cab. They ended up sneaking through a weak point in the school fence. Gakushuu doesn’t want to know how Karma found out about that point.

“They’ve certainly gotten used to lying for you, haven’t they,” says Karma, and _when did he sneak up on him like that?_ “This is what we call a corrupted leader, Gakushuu.”

Gakushuu’s mouth curves into a smirk. “I’m not the one who, ah — let’s see, _threatened_ his roommate into playing hooky, hm? Our teachers wouldn’t be surprised if our resident delinquent were so vile as to intimidate me into coming with him for some petty fun.”

“That’s your story?” Karma asks as the cab pulls up to the curb. “Like anyone’s ever intimidated you.”

“Like there’s ever been a person you haven’t managed to intimidate when you really want to,” Gakushuu retorts.

“Hey, you’d be surprised.”

“Really?” He laughs as they slide into the cab. “I’d like to meet that person, just to ask for their autograph.” 

* * *

An amusement park, of all places.

It’s loud and colourful and crowded, even though it opened not long before they arrived. Gakushuu’s been here a couple times with the Virtuosos, and twice on a date. He surveys it for possible exit routes, in case Karma tries to pull something, but before he’s had time to do a complete check, the redhead’s dragging him over to a booth selling — are those fried Oreos on a stick?

“We have basketball,” Gakushuu reminds him. “We have to eat _healthy._ ”

“We don’t _have_ to do anything,” Karma says, pulling a wad of crumpled bills out of his pocket. He buys a soda and what appears to be an excessively frosted pancake on a plate. Gakushuu, thankful that he managed to get ahold of his wallet after all, orders a strawberry smoothie and a cup of French fries. What's even worse is that it actually tastes good.

"Arcade first," Karma declares as Gakushuu angles the straw around in his smoothie, searching for bits of strawberry. "Let's see how good you are at this."

As it turns out, not very. Gakushuu gets crushed.

"I despise you, Akabane," he says in a tone that assures real, physical violence instead of the virtual kind he's committing on the screen. Little red robots gather around his walls, unbothered by the waves of fire he's sending their way, and begin attacking with the same kind of vicious glee that's responsible for the enormous smirk on Karma's face.

 _PLAYER 1 WINS_ , the screen reads.

The machine they're sitting in is too cramped for Karma to easily dodge if Gakushuu tries to punch him in the face, but he resists the temptation anyway. He breathes through the red haze clouding his vision and says, "Rematch."

"Sore loser," Karma sings out, sliding one of his paper bills into the machine's slot.

"Oh, and deliberately bringing me to a game I've never played before isn't underhanded in the least? You can't act like you're the better person here."

"Hey, I need revenge for — let's see, hm?" Karma counts off on his fingers. "Those American knuckleheads you purposely brought in for the pole-toppling festival, blackmailing Isogai into getting us to work so hard on that in the first place, planning to blackmail us in that bet with the finals, all those times you foiled my pranks—"

"There's no way that last one counts. I was doing a service for the community." Gakushuu watches the screen boot up again and flash _LET'S BEGIN_ in bright, pixelated block letters. "This time, I get the red." He'd been quite displeased to learn that there was no orange avatar available in the game.

Karma scowls. "Where does that leave me?"

"Pick yellow," Gakushuu replies, with the full knowledge that Karma despises that colour.

"You're never any fun, Number Two."

"That nickname shouldn't even be applicable anymore. We tied on midterms this time—“

"Doesn't mean those three points have ceased to exist," Karma hums, grating as always, like Gakushuu didn’t beat him half a dozen times over in other junior high assessments, and Gakushuu didn’t _win_ in the year’s first midterms.

The game starts up. To Karma's credit, he does let Gakushuu pick red this time, and Karma gets to have brown.

Gakushuu is on defense again, because that's what he knows how to play, and he should get better at it before learning to do offense. He has thirty seconds to build his castle walls before Karma sends his ugly little robots to tear them down.

"That's not strong enough," Karma says, with a condescending cluck of his tongue.

"My castle is _fine_."

"Can't wait to tear it down," he responds, and the timer hits zero.

The first wave isn't so bad, which is how Gakushuu knows he's planning something. The robots scatter through the grass and form a loose triangle formation, with one point digging into the center of the walls, trying to weaken them. The other two points arrive a moment later. Gakushuu sends a fireball to where the robots are most concentrated, scattering them again, this time with no sense of formation.

"Hey, Gakushuu," Karma says, leaning forward so that the screen casts an eerie green glow on his face. "If I win this one, you owe me free lunch."

"If you're planning to eat here, then be my guest. It's not like the junk they sell is expensive."

Karma grins. Those two canines poke out and jab into his bottom lip, gleaming in the light.

Gakushuu still manages to lose.

The snicker isn't even out of the corner of Karma's mouth before he says, "Rematch."

"You're fighting a pointless battle here," Karma replies.

Gakushuu's pretty sure that's not how the saying goes, but never mind that. He knows he's getting closer to winning. With each game, he's gathering more data on how it works as a whole, and he can devise a strategy to win.

"If I lose against you this time," he promises, although it's a risky gamble to say he can do it on his third game, "I'll buy you dinner, too. If I win, you only have to buy me lunch."

Karma tilts his head. He hasn't cut his hair in a while; a few strands of it hang into his eyes, blocking them from view. Gakushuu knows that they're glinting right now. "Deal."

This time, Karma selects the colour green. Gakushuu selects grey.

Instead of freaking out and going for the first robots Gakushuu sees, he bides his time. He waits until his own machinery is all ready, then fires straight into the back of the formation Karma's chosen — shaped like horns this time, spearing the weaker castle walls on the sides. He fires twice more, once on each side.

He waits again. Fifteen seconds until his machinery has recharged to its fullest. Some of the robots have climbed up, ready to rip his guns straight out of the walls.

The next three blasts destroy almost all of Karma's robots. Next to him, the redhead's expression remains easy and confident, but Gakushuu knows from the way he tilts his head the slightest bit to the left that he's concerned. Or confused.

Less than one minute later, he finds himself staring at a _PLAYER 2 WINS_ screen, trying not to let his jaw fall to the floor.

"There's a restaurant about half a kilometre away from here that's very good," he says to Karma, whose expression is carefully blank, "and very expensive."

The redhead flicks the hair out of his eyes. "Fair enough."

 _There's_ the rush of triumph Gakushuu's been waiting for, now that the shock is gone. It's been so long since he's felt this way, mostly because he's a beginner at this. Gakushuu isn't often a beginner at something, but he's won anyway. He grins at Karma. "Sore loser," he chides.

"I," Karma says slowly, "am taking this perfectly well."

"No, you aren't. I've been living with you seven days a week, almost every week, since April. I can see how dead you are on the inside right now." Gakushuu's smirk widens. "Come on, I'll let you rematch me if you're that sad about this."

Karma regards him with a slight curve to his lips. "Nah, I'm fine. There's plenty of other games in this arcade, though. Let's go play another one, hm?"

Gakushuu can't stop that smirk from staying on his face, even when Karma destroys him in the next game.

* * *

About an hour and a half later, Karma's ready for the next step. Gakushuu, tired of arcade games, wonders at the fact his roommate is capable of putting together anything resembling a schedule. It's like he has an actual plan, and it isn't a plan to cause mischief and ruin innocent lives for once.

"Roller coasters," Gakushuu says, raising an eyebrow.

"You told me you've been here before. There's no way you haven't ridden any of the roller coasters."

"I've ridden almost all of them," Gakushuu says, as his mind involuntarily wanders to the Tunnel of Love and his last date there. He kind of misses those days, where he had the time to spare for that. "I'm merely concerned that you're doing this so that you can unbuckle my seatbelt while we're riding one of the loops and I fall to my death."

"I considered it," Karma replies, "but that's a merciful death. I'd rather take my time for when I kill you."

"That's reassuring."

Karma smirks at him and says, "You think the same all the time," and then Gakushuu's brain short-circuits a bit because he's been playing arcade games for two hours and he's still coming down from the high and Karma's fingers are curled around his wrist, right over his pulse, as he tugs Gakushuu forward. _Stop acting like a teenage boy, stop acting like a teenage boy, stop acting like a teenage boy, he does this all the time why are you freaking out about it right now?_ He's not thinking straight; the world is fragmenting into pixels.

If Karma notices how Gakushuu's pulse speeds up, he doesn't let on. They end up in a line for a hulking, looming metal monster, one of those contraptions where you lock yourself into a carriage, get lifted into the air by a giant metal arm, and spin around while trying not to vomit. Gakushuu's been on it four times, twice on one visit, because Seo really likes it and he won that one bet the Virtuosos made on who would vomit first, so there was his prize. (Gakushuu said Koyama; Seo said himself, right before leaning over the nearest trash can and making a demonstration. Apparently, there had been something in the sandwich he'd eaten that morning. Araki has pictures.)

"Someone at the front of the line is an old classmate from Kunugigaoka," Karma says, peering over the top of the crowd. "Think that we could cut in front of them with the 'I am Gakushuu Asano, born leader of men, I get privileges' thing you do all the time?"

"The line's not even that long," Gakushuu says as the person behind them shoots them a venomous glare, just for Karma suggesting for the idea. "We can wait."

"You're boring."

"You're a horrible person with no manners," he responds. "It's not a big deal, anyway. While we're waiting in line, I can review for exams."

Karma gapes at him. "Did you bring a giant textbook here without me knowing?" Much to Gakushuu's displeasure, Karma angles himself behind Gakushuu to stare at his back, like he'd be hiding it up his —

Anyway. Gakushuu huffs. "I have digital copies of all my notes, and my phone syncs with my laptop. So don't think that setting my papers on fire will ruin my studying for exams."

"You're so prepared, it's revolting," Karma says, and then, "Review with me."

"What?"

"I'll ask you questions, and you can ask me. We'll use your notes as a reference. I study too, you know."

"I do know," Gakushuu admits. He's surprised, that's all. Karma Akabane works hard when he wants to. Studious Karma, however, is a different person from delinquent Karma who forces Gakushuu to skip school for shitty food and roller coasters, and yet here they are in perfect coexistence. It's hard to reconcile the two.

"Review time. Hit me with your best shot," Karma says. The line inches forward.

Gakushuu asks him to recite the ending lines of a Japanese epic he knows that Karma hates. (Hell, they all do, except Ren, who's a nerd for Japanese epics.) Karma heaves a sigh and does so, word-for-word, with all the enthusiasm of a corpse.

"Wow," Gakushuu says, giving a sarcastic thumbs-up as Karma concludes. He wishes he had the foresight to film it. "You should consider slam poetry."

"Yeah, see how many swearwords I can cram into a sonnet and still maintain the rhythm," Karma says. "Explain the historical context behind _The Lord of the Flies_."

Gakushuu prattles on about World War II and William Golding's experiences with PTSD and _The Coral Island_ until Karma's eyes glaze over, and then he grins. "Good enough?"

"College thesis material. Next question."

"We don't have time," Gakushuu says, nodding at the line. They're close to the front. As soon as the ride finishes up and its current passengers walk off, it's their turn.

"Like I can't solve math problems while hanging upside down?"

Gakushuu eyes him, then opens up a digital art app on his phone. He likes to draw out math problems for his tutees and screenshot it, then text the screenshot to them. Fortunately, the last problem he'd written is perfect for Karma, too. He shows it to Karma, who takes the phone from him and frowns down at it.

And then it’s their turn. Gakushuu straps himself into the enormous metal death contraption that Seo loves way too much, Karma right next to him. They exchange challenging grins, and then they’re up in the air.

* * *

Whether Karma can solve problems while upside down remains to be seen, but he cannot solve them while being swung around at a hundred kilometres per hour. However, he does not seem to care about this flaw, because he’s too busy making fun of Gakushuu.

“When we first dropped down,” Karma says with utter glee, “did I hear you _screaming_?”

Gakushuu stares at him, wishing he could melt Karma with his eyes. Really, what is science for if scientists haven’t invented such a function yet? “That was the person behind us.”

“Of course it was.”

Karma doesn’t stop laughing, even after Gakushuu _accidentally_ spills their popcorn on him. Especially after.

* * *

Karma convinces Gakushuu to grab more junk food for dinner while they watch a play being put on by a bunch of college students (“We ate your weird Western vegan food for lunch, so therefore—“). They share a tray of funnel cake and French fries, and it’s all garbage, but it’s _good_ garbage. Gakushuu thinks with a twitch of lips that that isn’t a bad description of Karma, either.

Naturally, the play is stupidly cutesy, considering that most of the audience are elementary schoolers. It’s about a hamster who befriends a highly intelligent apple, despite the hamster being determined to eat it. At the end of the first act, the hamster learns that regardless of the apple’s edibility, it’s a person of value and has become the hamster’s friend.

“Apples aren’t people,” Gakushuu mutters as an intermission is called.

Apparently, the kid sitting in front of him hears that, because she turns around to give him an icy glare. “Apples too are people!” she snaps, her hands balling up into fists. “I’m gonna be an apple when I grow up. That doesn’t mean I won’t be a person!”

Oh, God. Gakushuu can work with kids, he gets along with his baby cousins and the children of family friends just fine, but this girl is not that type of kid. “I’m sorry, but apples—“

Karma shoves his shoulder. “Of course apples are people,” the redhead says to the little girl. “I apologize for my companion’s shortsightedness. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, you see.”

The girl sticks out her tongue. “I can tell.” She turns back around to watch the stage.

“Don’t crush people’s dreams like that, Gakushuu,” Karma whispers in chiding tones. Gakushuu rolls his eyes.

In the second act, the hamster admits to his family that he really likes the apple, and doesn’t believe in consuming apples anymore. His parents, horrified by this betrayal, threaten to disown him if he doesn’t stop being friends with the apple. Although his twenty little brothers (all represented by finger puppets) are more understanding, they’re too scared to stand up to their parents, and the hamster has to decide whether to leave the apple or not.

 _Seriously, what the hell?_ Gakushuu scoffs and finds himself leaning into Karma’s shoulder, if only to have a place to nap in case the play gets too boring not to sleep through. The redhead stiffens briefly in surprise, then slips an arm around him.

This is comfortable, comfort _ing_ even. Gakushuu wouldn’t call himself touch-starved, but most people are too intimidated to do much besides shake his hand. He nestles deeper into Karma and pops a French fry into his mouth.

After another half hour, the hamster essentially goes _fuck this, I care too much about my friend,_ and stands up to his parents. Admirably, the hamster outright challenges his parents to disown him, saying he’ll crash at the apple’s place. The parents find that they can’t bring themselves to do this, and allow the hamster to remain in their home, although their relationship is much more strained than it was pre-apple.

“What is this, a metaphor for coming out?” Gakushuu mumbles, and Karma laughs, his exhale gusting over the top of his head.

The second act concludes, and there’s another intermission. Karma notes that their plate is almost empty. Someone should get up to go get them more food. If they toss a coin —

“No,” Gakushuu says. “That’s depriving me of my pillow.”

“But you can’t fall asleep during the last act, Gakushuu. What if there’s some amazing plot twist at the end? What if there’s—?”

“Ugh, whatever. Stop talking. I’ll go get us more food.”

Gakushuu volunteers partly because it means that this time, he can choose the food, and it won’t be _nearly_ as unhealthy. He buys two fruit cups, sweet potatoes, and slices of watermelon. When Karma spots him coming back with their tray, his expression flattens with disappointment. “Should I bother being surprised by your taste anymore?”

“Maybe.” As Gakushuu’s setting down the tray, he pulls out something he was hiding in his pocket and tosses it to Karma. It’s a strawberry juice box. The surprise on the redhead’s face is incredibly satisfying. “You’re welcome.”

Karma’s already jamming the straw in. “You’re almost as heroic as that hamster,” he says.

“Only because I’m soothing someone who’d otherwise be a demon,” Gakushuu replies, settling back against Karma’s shoulder. Gakushuu knows how to survive without his coffee — by the time he was ten, he could go for multiple days at a time without sleeping – but Karma without his juice is a whole new level of obnoxious.

Karma makes loud slurping noises of vocal satisfaction as he works on his juice box, and Gakushuu has to jab him in the side because the annoying little girl in front of them shoots them another evil glare. By the time he’s done, intermission’s ended. The hamster protagonist flounces onto the stage and declares that it’s time for act three.

The apple meets up with the hamster’s parents in an awkward dinner. To the hamster’s mortification, his twenty finger-puppet little brothers immediately attack the apple and try to chew on it, unable to resist the apple’s sweet fragrance (“What are they, vampires?”). The hamster orders them to go to their rooms and apologizes to the apple, who graciously brushes it off and makes a bad joke about not being too sour.

Judging by the laughter of virtually every kid in the audience, including some of the teenagers, Gakushuu guesses it’s supposed to be clever. He just thinks it’s stupid, and wait, is Karma quivering? Yes, he is. He’s laughing too. Gakushuu is surrounded by idiots.

Although he already knew Karma was an idiot, so whatever.

* * *

Gakushuu falls asleep.

The play is _boring,_ and he’s already watched more than two-thirds of it, so who cares? He wakes up an indefinite amount of time later on someone’s shoulder, feeling strangely warm for a December night, and realises that the play is done. There are little kids up onstage, talking to the actors and taking photos.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Karma purrs. “How was your nap?”

Gakushuu rubs his eyes, knowing that the shoulder in question belongs to his roommate and not really minding. Also that Karma’s jacket is draped over them both, which is what kept him warm. “How long was I asleep?”

“Maybe half an hour, forty-five minutes? Not long.”

“Did I miss anything important?”

“The hamster and the app—“

“That’s not important.”

“Nothing else, really. Your hair is a mess.”

Gakushuu reluctantly peels himself away from Karma, wrapping the redhead’s jacket around him in the process despite his protests, and combs his fingers through his hair. It’s manageable. No one will question it when they get back to campus. “What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty. I know I promised to bring you back by seven, but—”

“It’s okay.” Gakushuu’s too content from the nap to be angry. “We need to get back now, though.”

“And if I said I stole all the money from your wallet and used it to buy myself more snacks?”

Gakushuu goes from drowsy to murderous in the space of a second. “If you—“

“I was joking.” Karma raises his hands, which are free of chocolate stains or popcorn crumbs. His eyes glint with amusement. “Let’s go, then.”

They catch a cab back to their dorm. As they’re stepping into their room, Gakushuu suddenly says, “I have a present for you.”

Karma tilts his head. “Hm?”

“Two presents. Christmas and your birthday. I won’t be able to see you during Christmas break, so I’m giving them to you early, before we’re buried in finals.”

“Two?” Karma asks sceptically. “Most people just give me one and say it doubles as a Christmas _and_ a birthday present.”

Gakushuu crawls underneath his bed for the box. He’s kept it there for a week, hovering at the back of his mind but never truly acknowledging it. “My birthday is on New Year’s Day,” he says, pulling it out. “I know how that feels, because everyone does it to me, too.”

“I’m not offended by it anymore,” Karma says drily. “You get used to it.”

Gakushuu sighs and shoves the box at him. “Just accept the presents.”

The wrapping paper is sealed around the nondescript cardboard box perfectly, without a wrinkle or crease to be seen. Gakushuu would’ve preferred it had Karma carefully cut through the tape and peeled the floral-patterned paper away from the box, but he’s not at all surprised when the redhead tears it apart like it’s tissue and roughly yanks out the box.

Golden eyes bright with curiosity, Karma pries open the top. The box contains jars of spices, lined up in neat little rows. He blinks, scanning the labels. Most of them are written in languages neither of them know, unless Karma is better than languages than he’s let on. “Where did you get these?”

“Europe,” Gakushuu says. “I ordered them. You mentioned you had a collection.”

“I do.” Karma taps his fingers against the lids. “I didn’t think you’d remember.”

 _Well._ Gakushuu merely shrugs. “I also got you these,” he says, upending the box. A tangled pair of earphones fall onto the floor.

“I already have earphones.”

“ _Bad_ earphones,” Gakushuu says, crossing his arms. “Horrible ones, in fact. I know you like to crank up the volume, but they should not be leaking so much sound I can make out the lyrics from across the room. I tested these out until my ears were bleeding. They won’t have the same problem.”

Karma begins to untangle them, a smirk resting on his lips. “If they bother you so much, dear Gakushuu. I wouldn’t want to affect your concentration, not right before finals. You’ll need to be at peak performance if you want to beat me again.”

He sounds like he’s doing Gakushuu a favour by taking the gift, and they both know he is. Gakushuu restrains himself from making an equally spiteful remark and says, “Why don’t we review now and you show me just how difficult you’ll be to beat?”

The redhead slides the lid back over the box of spices and leaves it on his desk. “You’re on.”

Curiously, Gakushuu thinks he’ll miss Karma over Christmas break.

* * *

For as long as Gakushuu can remember, his father hasn’t liked basketball. Of course, Father wouldn’t refuse to let his son play basketball just because he personally doesn’t like it, but something about the sport bothers him. He encourages Gakushuu’s athleticism, and over the years, Gakushuu’s been involved in just about everything: baseball, soccer, track, you name it. He may not be the top player in all of those, but he’s still one of Kunugigaoka’s top athletes, and even more so for his spectacular well-roundedness. Father is fine with all of that — he expects nothing less of his son — but when Gakushuu so much as _says_ the word _basketball_ , something in his expression closes off.

So when he’s practicing in the neighbourhood basketball court, he’s surprised by the sound of Asano Sr.’s even tread. “Father?” he blurts out, tucking his basketball underneath his arm. His forehead is beaded with sweat.

“Gakushuu,” his father says with a nod. The omnipresent phone is tucked into the crook of his shoulder, but he puts it down on the bench. “I saw that you were practising here.”

“Yes. Our coach expects us to work on our weaknesses over the break,” Gakushuu says, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Basketball season with the other schools starts the week we’re back.” And according to Karma, their first match is against Terasaka’s school. Karma wants to crush him just to be annoying; Gakushuu, having less-than-fond memories of Terasaka’s smack-talking, is inclined to agree with this goal.

Father eyes him briefly from the bench, then stands up, holding out his hands for the ball. “Why don’t I teach you a few things?”

Gakushuu frowns, but tosses him the ball anyway. “I’ve never seen you play basketball.”

He’s shocked to find that, in fact, Father _does_ play basketball, and extraordinarily well at that. Gakushuu’s skills rival the team captain’s (much to Tanaka’s annoyance), but in one hour-long session, he grows far better under Asano Sr.’s tutelage. Nor does Father cut him any slack; by the end, Gakushuu’s more exhausted, and more disgustingly sweaty, than he is in a three-hour practice with the team.

Inevitably, Gakushuu’s mind wanders over to other questions while they’re practising, like why his father has such a strange attitude toward basketball, and what caused the sudden change of heart. Gakushuu assumed he just disliked it, but he’s genuinely having fun playing with his son. He clearly knows what he’s doing when it comes to this sport. There must be something more complex to it, more personal — but Gakushuu will have a hard time fishing it out of his father.

So he asks his mother.

She’s taken a break from her constant traveling to be with him and Father for Christmas. Today, she’s teaching him how to knit. It’s the harmless, cheery kind of thing Gakushuu rarely indulges in, but he enjoys getting to spend time with his mom.

“Oh, Gakushuu,” she says when he poses the question. “That’s a bit of an old wound, I’m afraid.”

Gakushuu regards the crimson lump of a hat he’s knitted. He’s seen trash cans that are more aesthetically appealing than this. “What happened?”

“One of his old students,” Mom sighs. “He killed himself. The boy loved basketball; your father played it with him all the time.”

 _Oh._ Gakushuu frowns. “Why did he kill himself?”

She shrugs. “Gakuhou doesn’t bring it up. I was happy to know he was seeing Mori and Nagai again, though. They were classmates with the basketball boy. Perhaps seeing them heals the wound a bit.”

Hm. Mori and Nagai were interesting before, but they skyrocket up Gakushuu’s list of priorities with that comment. Gakushuu will see if he can get some time to talk to them without Father noticing. In the meantime, he needs to get better at knitting.

“I don’t even know what this is supposed to be,” Mom says bluntly, surveying the shapeless mess of yarn he’s handed to her.

“It’s a beanie.”

“Then make it look more beanie-like.”

After two days of nothing but knitting and basketball, Gakushuu picks up quite a few tricks to intimidate Terasaka’s team and pieces together a passable sweater, then a genuinely good sweater that Mom deems passable. He snaps a photo of it and scrolls down his contacts list, contemplating which person should know about this accomplishment.

Ren is usually the first to know about more trivial details of his life, but — he’s bored, and some verbal sparring will be fun.

 _Gakushuu Asano has sent a file to piece of utter fucking shit.  
_ 3:17 PM

 _ugly. what kind of monstrosity  
_ piece of utter fucking shit, 3:31 PM

 _Can you do any better?  
_ Gakushuu Asano, 3:40 PM

 _that’s hardly fair, i don’t know how to knit  
_ piece of utter fucking shit, 3:43 PM

Of course, Gakushuu points out that _he_ only learned how to knit two days ago, so that’s no excuse. When Karma wants to know if he’s saying that Karma can’t do better if he _does_ learn, Gakushuu simply texts back, _Yes_.

Karma says not to be so sure – just wait until they get back to school. It escalates from there into another of their pointless competitions, on which one is the better knitter and how they’ll prove it. Gakushuu can’t stop grinning at his phone. _Shit,_ he thinks to himself, after realising he’s been staring at the screen for five minutes without texting back, doing nothing but smiling like he’s smitten with it.

Gakushuu Asano does not have a crush on Karma Akabane. Definitely not. Life is improving in the Asanos’ home, and school’s as tough as ever. He doesn’t need more distractions.

Gakushuu Asano does not have a crush on Karma Akabane.

* * *

Gakushuu's been assigned some pretty difficult homework before, and he's always aced it. This time around, though, he's ready to rip the paper in half and fling every pen he owns at the wall. The only reason he doesn't is because Karma gave him new, expensive, favourite, _beautiful_ pens for his birthday yesterday, and as much as of a bastard Karma is, they're still a gift from a friend. They're friends, even if both of them would deny it from here to Antarctica and back.

"This is impossible," he says aloud. Karma glances up from his own work from the other side of the bench, raising an eyebrow.

Karma didn't want to go back to studying in their musty dorm room the second day back, so they agreed to work on a bench near the library. It's yet another one of his roommate's horrible ideas, because it's freezing cold and Gakushuu, in some strange display of goodwill, lent his scarf to Karma. The redhead looks far too content as he says, "What's wrong?"

"This stupid self-reflection thing Kiyomoto assigned," Gakushuu says, holding up his notebook. _New's Year Resolutions_ is written at the top, enclosed in a festive-looking banner. Besides that, the page is blank. "What if you're perfect, and therefore don't have any resolutions to make?"

"A resolution to take over the world?" Karma offers.

"I contemplated writing that, but Kiyomoto would think something's wrong with me."

"She'd be correct."

"Regardless, I have no other resolutions to make." Gakushuu scowls at Karma. "How much progress have you made? I kind of want to see what improvements you're trying to make, just to know if any of them happen to be 'stop being such a disorganized slob'."

Karma rolls his eyes. "Hilarious. Besides, I haven't started the assignment yet. I'm finishing the English essay first."

"Well, what are you going to write?"

Karma's forehead creases. "I haven't really thought about it. Now that I'm considering it, it _does_ seem slightly difficult. Well." He snaps his fingers. "How about we help each other? We both think the other is the worst specimen to exist on this earth, so we'll be able to come up with plenty of potential improvements."

"You want to criticize my personality under the guise of helping a struggling student," Gakushuu says flatly.

"In all fairness, you get to do the same."

He sighs. "I'm in."

Karma shoves his English essay into one of his folders and removes a sheet of notebook paper. He scrawls down a few quick bullet points before looking over to Gakushuu. "All right. I wrote the resolutions I already knew I wanted, and the thing you said about being a slob. What else?"

"Your hygiene," Gakushuu says immediately. "Related, but not quite the same. You don't do your laundry half as often as you should, and you eat too much food with your fingers."

Karma nods. "My turn. I'll tell you one thing you need to fix, and you tell me one thing, and we'll keep rotating that way. Okay?"

Gakushuu taps his pen against the notebook. "Okay."

"You have a superiority complex that rivals the size of Asia. Write that down."

Entirely true. Gakushuu writes _stop looking down on others_. "You take joy in physically hurting people, which is both horrible of you and outright alarming to others."

"You have a bad temper."

"You have an immature sense of humour."

"You're overly manipulative and controlling."

"You're incapable of controlling your impulses."

"You have very little empathy."

"You pretend to be cooler than you are."

"As do you."

"You're rude."

"You have no qualms about using morally questionable methods such as blackmail or bribery."

"You don't know how to let things go."

"As do you."

The list goes on and on. Gakushuu is both impressed and insulted by Karma's points, mainly because he doesn't feel much need to change some of the more objectionable aspects of his personality. The critique reveals a depth of insight and observation Gakushuu didn't think someone like Karma would be capable of, perfect exam scores be damned. Speaking of which.

"You're not entirely awful, though," he adds, after Karma complains _still thinks wearing black automatically makes you edgy_ isn't a valid point. "You're not as obnoxiously lazy as I thought you were."

"My five hundred was hardly a fluke."

Gakushuu nods.

"But working hard was something you knew how to do all along, Gakushuu," Karma says, eyeing him. "You didn't lose those three points because of _your_ laziness."

Gakushuu shrugs. Tell that to his father; every mistake Gakushuu makes comes down to his lack of determination. "Thank you, I suppose."

"You've gotten better too. You're less of a tyrant now."

"Thank you," Gakushuu says again, this time with more of a smile in his voice. He glances down at his notebook. "I think I have enough resolutions to turn this in. What about you?"

"I'd like one more."

Gakushuu thinks. "You skip too many steps during math problems. It’s difficult for less mathematical minds to understand."

"That is not in any way something that I should be concerned about fixing."

"Kiyomoto is a math teacher. She'll love that you paid attention to her subject."

Karma sighs and writes it down, ignoring Gakushuu’s incredulous _I’m kidding!_ “Fine. I’m done now. Let’s head back to the dorm and clean up our room a bit.”

“You mean I’ll clean up the room a bit, while you eat chips and play games on your phone?”

Karma’s eyes light up. “I downloaded new games over the holidays, actually. I’ll show you th—“

“No, you won’t,” says Gakushuu, “because you’re obviously baiting me into getting another competition with you, and after Candy Crush, I’m done with competing over phone games.”

Karma deflates.

“Anyway, once we get back, we’re also going to show each other the sweaters we knitted and decide who will judge whose is better.” Gakushuu cocks his head. “Or did you forget?”

Karma stops deflating, a smirk lighting up his face. “Not at all. It’s in my closet.”

* * *

“Ms. Kiyomoto?”

The teacher glances up from her desk. She’s in the middle of grading a stack of yesterday’s quizzes, her eyebrows knitted together with concentration. Her lunch, a plastic container of fried rice, lies neglected next to the quizzes. “Yes, Asano?”

“Karma and I would like you to judge a contest for us.” In unison, the two of them hold up their sweaters. “We’ve knitted these sweaters, and we want to know who knitted a better sweater. If you could look at them and try them on, could you decide that for us?”

There’s rarely a crack in Kiyomoto’s professionalism — Karma and Gakushuu have broken quite a few rules about proper conduct in the classroom before, and their behaviour merits nothing more than an arch of her perfect eyebrows — but it gets an amused smile out of her. “Certainly.”

She reaches forward and takes the sweaters from the eager students’ hands. Examining them both, she runs her hands over Gakushuu’s and hums. “Lamb’s wool?”

“Yes, it is, Ms. Kiyomoto.”

It’s beautifully knitted, in Gakushuu’s opinion. He selected a crisp, calm shade of grey that, if he ever chose to wear it, would complement his eyes nicely. With Kiyomoto’s black hair and pale skin, it adds to her unique sense of solemn sophistication.

She puts it on and toys with the ends of the sleeves, which are a bit frayed. Gakushuu tried his best to fix them, but Mom gave them a passing glance and said there was no helping it. “Hm. I quite like this, Asano. It’s lovely and soft, although I suspect it’ll unravel in a few years’ time.”

Gakushuu bows his head, even as he stiffens at the last part of the sentence. “Thank you, Ms. Kiyomoto.”

Karma’s sweater is a pleasing shade of burgundy, but it’s made out of a shining silk that has Gakushuu immediately think, _Too flashy_. Kiyomoto tries it on and tilts her head. “A good piece of work, Akabane. I can clearly see the effort you put into this, although it’s a little itchy.”

Karma beams. Kiyomoto takes off the sweater and folds it up, setting it down on the desk. “Well, boys,” she says, sitting back down. She smiles at them. “I enjoyed wearing both of yours, despite your clear lack of experience, but I’d say that in the end, I prefer Asano’s.”

Gakushuu wants to record that and make it his ringtone. He picks up his sweater and gives Karma the politest, most charming grin he possibly can, all while his pointed stare screams, _eat shit, motherfucker._ “Thank you for your opinion, Ms. Kiyomoto.”

“Of course,” Kiyomoto says with a nod. “It was a pleasure to talk to you two, but if you will, I need to get back to these quizzes.”

They make the necessary apologies and excuse themselves. Gakushuu waits until they’ve walked a good distance away from the classroom door, then turns to Karma with a razor-sharp smirk and says, “I _won_.”

“I’m aware of that,” Karma says, leaning against the wall. He sighs, like Gakushuu’s little announcement is nothing but an inconvenience, not an enormous, unmistakable sign that _Gakushuu is fucking better and he has won_. “What do you want?”

* * *

Kiyomoto pauses in grading Class 1-C’s quizzes to watch Asano and Akabane file out the door, smugness rolling off the strawberry blonde in waves. Their animosity has been palpable all year, but something’s different about the way they look at each other nowadays.

 _Teenagers,_ she thinks to herself with a chuckle. Maki and Ashida already have bets placed on when the pair will swallow their pride and get together, although if you ask Kiyomoto, she’s too mature to ever do such a thing. Even if she’s pretty sure they’re right.

* * *

In the end, the favour Gakushuu asks for is that Karma do the weekly clean-up of their dorm room. It only takes half an hour, but when he says for the tenth time _you missed a spot, do you call this cleaning,_ Karma tries to attack him with the broom. Gakushuu has to iron out the dust from his clothes, but it’s worth it to see the murderous glint in his roommate’s eyes.

Afterwards, Karma saunters over to the bed, like he hadn’t been brimming with enough white-hot rage to light the fires of hell five minutes ago. “Toss me your sweater, Gakushuu,” he says lazily, the broom still in hand. “If it’s as comfortable as Kiyomoto says, I want a chance to test it out, and it’s awfully cold in here.”

Like there isn’t sweat on his forehead from how thoroughly Gakushuu made him clean the room. “If you get it dirty, I’ll make you do the week’s laundry too.”

“You don’t have any more favours to cash in.” Karma throws an arm over his eyes in exaggerated exhaustion.

“I’ll hold you at gunpoint.”

“I’ll keep it clean. Just give me the sweater.” Karma catches it and tugs it over his head. “Wow. This is one of the most unappealing colours I’ve seen in my entire life.”

“Only on you,” Gakushuu says, which isn’t untrue. It simply doesn’t work with Karma’s red hair and golden eyes.

“It _is_ comfortable, though,” Karma says grudgingly, stretching out on his bed. He curls up on top of the blankets like a contented cat. “It’s. . .too comfortable, actually. Gakushuu, I’m going to take a nap.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah. This is quite comfy, I don’t think I’ll need a blanket. Goodnight, Gakushuu. Afternoon.” Without further ado, Karma’s out like a light, which is disgustingly unfair because there’s too many times Gakushuu’s stared up at the ceiling for hours into the night contemplating the meaning of the universe, and even more times Karma’s woken him up at 3 AM to ask him things like _do you think that cacti have feelings?_

* * *

Gakushuu has a crush on Karma Akabane.

It's hopeless to deny it, and he's tried his hardest to do that. He finally comes to terms with the fact one late January night, when it's twelve and he's staring at the ceiling and Karma is snoring softly across the room, and all Gakushuu can do is think, _My life is a mess._

He doesn't know how to do this. Gakushuu has had crushes before, sure, kids like Sato who were charming and attractive and who he'd had no problem winning over. They weren't really crushes, though — more like their good attributes managed to snag Gakushuu's attention, and he decided he wanted to get to know them and maybe date them. His friendship with Karma is chaotic and complicated and they're always arguing, and Gakushuu can only imagine what it would be like if that became romantic.

Gakushuu rolls over and reaches for his phone. It's now twelve-fifteen. He still can't sleep.

Karma's laugh and that obnoxious smirk and the tilt of his chin and the way he saunters everywhere like the entire world must be holding their breath to see him and him wearing Gakushuu's sweater and those pretty golden eyes piercing into him –

12:20. If Gakushuu doesn't tell someone about this, he'll burst, but who can he tell? For that matter, who's awake at this hour? He racks his brain for someone who would listen to him. Someone straightforward and willing to listen, who wouldn't just say what they know he wants to hear but also understands what Karma is like and how awful it would be have a crush on him.

All of the Virtuosos are out because of that last qualifier, even Ren. They'd tell him Karma isn't worth his time, wouldn't understand why Gakushuu is so smitten with him. Gakushuu sighs. There go his closest friends.

The odd stray thought occurs to him: perhaps this is why he has ended up crushing on Karma, of all people. He's not close enough to anyone else to get emotionally attached to them. It's sad to think that Gakushuu doesn't actually have many friends, even though everyone loves him.

But Karma has a few friends, Gakushuu remembers. He's got none of Gakushuu's popularity, but there is someone Gakushuu could talk to. Someone who just might understand.

It's an insane idea. Shiota probably isn't even awake. Still, he finds himself firing off a text, just a simple _Are you up?_

The response comes back twelve minutes later, after Gakushuu has stared some more at the ceiling and contemplated the image of Karma in that fucking sweater. _I am. Why?_

Time to cut to the chase. _I know this is really abrupt and all, but I think I have a crush on Karma._

_I see. Are you asking me for advice?_

Gakushuu's chest eases a little bit. As inane as it is to ask Nagisa Shiota, a boy he barely knows, for advice on his messed-up love life, he's fairly certain he's made the right call. There's no judgment from Shiota. It's hard not to appreciate that.

_Yes. You know him better than I do._

_I think that if you really like him, you should just be forward and tell him about it._

Gakushuu takes a steadying breath and types, _Do you know if he has a crush on me?_

The answer comes six minutes later, long enough to give Gakushuu minor heart palpitations. _He cares about you a lot more than he lets on._

Gakushuu knows that’s not an answer, but while Shiota isn’t the 4.0 overachiever his best friend is, he’s not going to give up Karma’s secrets that easily. Ideally, it would signify that Karma’s let it slip he has feelings for Gakushuu, but it could also mean Karma has explicitly said he _doesn’t_ have a crush on him, and Shiota’s trying to spare his feelings.

Gakushuu thinks that having emotions of any sort is a horrible choice. Why do they even exist? And why isn’t he trying to manipulate Shiota into telling him Karma’s real feelings?

 _Thank you,_ he texts back. _It’s good to know that._

_No problem. Karma might seem self-absorbed, and he is, but I promise you that he really cares about the people he loves. If you tell him how you feel, he won’t mock you for it. Good luck, Asano._

_You too, Shiota._ As an afterthought, he adds, _If you ever need help on homework or anything, you can always ask me._

_Thank you. I hope you sleep well._

_Well_ is a bit of stretch, but Gakushuu goes to sleep feeling better than he did before. If Karma is best friends with someone like Shiota, Gakushuu has to admit he’s not a complete idiot. As far as people go, Shiota is a better person than both of them.

* * *

It happens a week later.

Gakushuu and Karma are arguing over something stupid, as usual. They want to play some music in their room while they’re studying. Karma’s convinced pounding rock is the ideal study music, whereas Gakushuu prefers soothing classical. Gakushuu thinks Karma has problems with attention deficiency; Karma thinks Gakushuu is acting like an old man.

The discussion gets heated. At some point, Karma strays from his side of the room and sits on top of Gakushuu’s desk, despite the lack of invitation. He swings his legs back and forth and gestures frantically as he tries to inform Gakushuu of the merits of blaring punk music, but Gakushuu isn’t buying it. Karma can spout all the shit he likes about hormones and energy levels and neuroscience, but he’ll have to try it on one of the kids who didn’t do their homework, because Gakushuu is reasonably certain that’s not how it works. His eyebrows arch higher and higher with every word.

“I would like to point out,” Karma says slowly, “that if you just let me _pick the music,_ we could’ve done at least ten minutes of studying by now.”

“I would like to point out,” Gakushuu replies, “that your taste in study music is garbage.”

From then on, Gakushuu doesn’t really remember what happens, except that Karma gets this gleam in his eyes and leans down asking _what did you just say_ and Gakushuu leans forward instead of backing away, and — neither of them know who’s first, but — they’re kissing.

Karma’s lips are warm and pleasant, and they taste of the strawberry juice he drinks twenty-four-seven. He starts back at first, but Gakushuu feels him relax and smile against his lips, so he cards his fingers through the redhead’s hair and brush the back of his neck.

Karma murmurs something inaudible. Concerned, Gakushuu pulls away and asks, “What was that?”

“I _said_ , _kiss me harder,_ ” Karma replies drily.

Gakushuu arches his eyebrows. “Then perhaps we should move to a more advantageous position.”

Karma grins, sliding off the desk and tugging Gakushuu by the wrists over to the bed. They end up in a tangle of limbs on the covers, neither of them quite on top of the other, which is probably a good thing because Gakushuu is not going to go that far and he’s not playing that game with Karma. He also learns that Karma is a surprisingly good kisser, and a very dedicated one.

After a few minutes of kissing, Karma stops and rests a hand on Gakushuu’s collarbone before pressing his lips against his throat. Gakushuu makes this weird breathy noise, and Karma smirks against his skin, and Gakushuu says, “I _know_.”

To his credit, Karma does not pause in his work to tease Gakushuu, because Gakushuu would likely punch him in the face for so much as dreaming of it. Instead, he trails light butterfly kisses down Gakushuu’s neck and collarbone, then changes to heavier ones, ones Gakushuu knows are going to leave marks. He rests his hands in Karma’s very nice hair and says, “Nothing too obvious.”

Karma pouts, but murmurs something like an affirmation. He continues his work, leaving spots of red and the occasional almost-purple on Gakushuu’s pale, lovely skin. Gakushuu sighs above him, his head tipping back against the pillows because this is so _nice_ and wow, he could really get used to this.

“You know,” he says, “why didn’t we just do this sooner?”

Karma presses one last, lighter kiss against his throat before stopping. “Why didn’t we do what?”

“Just admit we liked each other.” Gakushuu shrugs. “Think of how many countries we could’ve already conquered if we’d agreed to work together.”

Karma laughs, low and rich. “We could start doing that now.”

Gakushuu tilts his head, considering this. “Okay. But first, it’s my turn.” With a sweet smile, he pushes the other boy off him and lowers his head to Karma’s neck.

Karma laughs again, full of delight. 

* * *

Falling in love with Karma is surprisingly easy, considering that Karma is an arrogant, reckless prankster with poor hygiene, an attitude problem, and an incomprehensible addiction to strawberry juice. When Gakushuu tells him as much, Karma laughs.

“Falling in love with Gakushuu,” he drawls, “is surprisingly easy, considering that you’re a conceited, self-absorbed narcissist with no empathy, inane cleaning habits, and a fondness for looking down on everyone.”

“You’re looking down on _me_ right now,” Gakushuu points out. “Literally.” He’s comfortably settled in Karma’s arms, his head settled into the curve of the redhead’s neck like they were meant to fit together, and _whoa,_ doesn’t he think he’s getting a little too sappy there?

Karma’s chin nuzzles the top of Gakushuu’s head. He never wants to move ever again.

“We have a chemistry quiz in science tomorrow.”

“Ugh,” Gakushuu says. “I’m not moving.”

“Wow.” Karma blinks slowly. “You’re not going to get up to study? You really _are_ in love with me.”

The pained yelp that follows smooths over Gakushuu’s irritation. He gives Karma a brilliant smile. “I’ll study,” he assures the redhead. “But my chemistry is good. We should improve _this_ first.” He leans up to kiss Karma again.

They could do this a thousand times, and Gakushuu will never be used to it. Karma is wild and passionate and warm, kisses him back slow and leisurely, like they have all the time in the world. His lips are so _soft_ —

“I suppose,” he murmurs against Gakushuu’s mouth, “that this isn’t the right time to make a joke about _our_ chemistry.”

Just for that, Gakushuu tries to strangle him with the bedsheets. He’ll only admit the day after that he’s glad he didn’t succeed.

 


	2. because i'm so much better (what we've made together)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *walks in almost four months later than planned with Starbucks* I am extremely sorry, but I hope this 15k of fluffy garbage is enjoyable nonetheless.
> 
> The title is from the Steven Universe "Stronger than You" song. I don't watch SU, I just listened to Lizz Robinett's cover like 30 times while working on this.
> 
> Hope y'all like it. :)

Sunlight spills through the windows, casting a soft glow on the floor and walls. The sound of running water floats from the bathroom, reaching Gakushuu, who pulls the blankets over his head with a discontented mumble.

“It's 7:16; you should wake up,” Karma calls.

A jolt of alarm shoots through Gakushuu, dragging him out of bed and into his morning routine. He’s already stuffing his feet into his shoes and double-checking his homework when Karma shuffles out of the bathroom, his hair sticking up in half a dozen different directions, and says, “I was joking. You don’t need to be so alarmed.”

Gakushuu whirls around, his expression caught between betrayal and fury. “I’m not actually late?”

Karma holds up his phone, which reads 7:21. “I said I was joking, not lying. Waking up one minute later than usual is your idea of late?”

“Because some of us actually understand the concept of punctuality,” Gakushuu shoots back. 7:21, at least, isn't so bad — he can stick around for another ten minutes or so before picking up breakfast. He goes back to poring over his homework when Karma makes a disgruntled noise and elbows him aside to check it himself.

“You don't have to do that every morning. I haven't pulled an all-nighter in three weeks.”

“You could still stand to sleep more,” Karma says, making a few marks on Gakushuu's homework with his pen. Gakushuu scowls and turns away, about to head for the bathroom, when he remembers. Last night. Shit.

“Regarding yesterday's events,” he says. Karma doesn't turn around, so he can't see the redhead's facial expression. He has no idea what to say, but Gakushuu grew up with a father whose tongue was sharper than any blade and just because he’s not at home as much anymore because of boarding school doesn't mean he's forgotten to speak on his feet. “My — feelings on the matter, on you, remain the same, but if you changed your mind, I'm willing to accept that.”

Karma sets down his pen. “I haven't changed my mind.”

“Not at all?”

“And here I thought you'd be too conceited to even consider the possibility of someone not being hopelessly in love with you,” Karma drawls, turning around. His eyes gleam with amusement. ”Of course, I wouldn't describe it as hopeless, but—”

“You are impossible,” Gakushuu says, and lunges forward to kiss him.

It's hard to get it right at first because they’re both smiling too much to kiss properly, but after a second, something clicks. Karma leans back on Gakushuu's desk — “Damage my homework and I'll kill you,” he mumbles, but he's pretty sure Karma can't hear him — and fuck, he smells really, really nice. Gakushuu thinks that maybe it's the sleep deprivation impairing his cognitive processes.

“How much time before you need to leave, again?” Karma asks.

Gakushuu sighs in pleasure as the other boy kisses his throat. “Um. Eight minutes.”

“Good,” Karma responds, grinning. “That's enough time to have some fun.”

He's about to kiss Gakushuu again when Gakushuu shifts away, frowning. “Wait. Karma, we need to define this.”

Karma arches his eyebrows. “Clarify that thought, please.”

“We need to agree on what we are to each other,” Gakushuu says. “I don't want there to be any confusion. It's not just roommates, clearly.”

Karma frowns. “I’m content to define it as ‘Gakushuu Asano has a crush on me, what a nerd.’”

Gakushuu tries to hit him, but they’re too close to each other to get a good angle. Karma laughs at him for that, only to get an elbow to the stomach that has him struggling for breath. “If I’m allowed to apply to that label to you as well, I’ll consider it an apt definition.”

“I am not a nerd,” Karma says, kissing him again. And again. And then again.

Eight minutes later, Gakushuu pulls away with considerably redder lips than he had before. He makes a face, but it’s harder to make the murderousness look sincere now. “Dating?” he offers. “That seems like a good label.”

“Aww, you want to be my boyfriend?”

Gakushuu’s already checking his backpack to ensure he has all the supplies he needs for the day. Without looking in Karma’s direction, he chucks a pillow at the redhead’s face. “You should be honoured.”

“But then how will I maintain my reputation as a delinquent if everyone finds out I’m dating a goody-two-shoes like you?”

“We shouldn’t tell everyone just yet,” Gakushuu says. He’s disappointed to hear the pillow land on the floor with a thud. Karma dodged it. A shame. “Wait a few days, at least, to mention it. We should worry about ourselves first.”

Karma snaps him a salute.

“I'm serious.”

“And _I’m_ serious,” Karma says, setting down the pillow on his bed out of the corner of Gakushuu’s eye. “About you. I won't bring it up to anybody the first few days, but after that, I'm considering it to be information open to the public domain.”

“And you say you're not a nerd,” Gakushuu accuses him.

Karma just smirks and sneaks one last kiss before Gakushuu hurries out. 7:32. Two minutes too late, but Gakushuu can live with that.

* * *

To be fair, it’s not smooth sailing at first. Gakushuu has been in relationships before, but none with his rival of four years, or a person who knows about some of his less than flattering personality traits, loathe as he is to admit he has any. Karma — well, he asks Karma that evening if Karma has even been in any relationships.

“I've barely even had a crush,” Karma says with a snort. They're munching on snacks together outside the back entrance of the library, to avoid being seen. They hadn't actually planned on running into each other, but Gakushuu, who had been on a study break, is pretty sure Karma was in the middle of doing something suspicious before he saw him, so he considers his interruption to be beneficial to the world as a whole. “You know about Nagisa, but even then, it wasn't the kind of crush that was keeping me awake at night thinking about him. I didn't see the point of telling him about it, because it wasn't that big a deal. Other than that, I don't think I've ever had interest in anybody.”

Gakushuu fishes out a handful of shrimp-flavoured crackers. “No one?”

“No.”

“Then enlighten me as to something I’m curious about,” he says, popping a cracker into his mouth.

“Yes?”

“How did you learn to kiss?”

Karma pauses in the middle of chewing on a strip of dried seaweed. “Why, are you implying I’m a good kisser?”

“Maybe,” Gakushuu says, allowing it only because Karma's too busy finishing the packet of seaweed to smirk at him. “Close your mouth, you look stupid.”

“I'm flattered,” Karma says. “I've never dated anyone, I assure you, but I've had my fair share of kissing experience.” He shrugs. “I kind of liked you back in seventh grade, actually.”

Gakushuu almost chokes on his cracker. “What.”

“Back in those days, I was only a baby delinquent, and I didn't hate people like you on instinct. Also, I was naive enough to think your charismatic benevolence was sincere for about two days. It was a very short crush. Would you like me to perform the Heimlich maneuver on you?”

“I'm good, thank you,” Gakushuu says, even though he's slightly concerned a piece of cracker is trying to escape through his nose. “Why are you telling me this? You think I’d never use it as blackmail material?”

“Actually, I got over the embarrassment long ago,” Karma says. “I admitted it in a game of truth or dare with my class last year. Everyone just rolled their eyes and said that the entire school had a crush on Gakushuu Asano at one point or another, and I should've told them a more juicy secret.”

“Ah.” Gakushuu steals a packet of Karma’s seaweed, contemplating this. “Well, I acknowledge it's true.”

Karma throws a barbecue chip at his face.

“I am not getting into a food fight with you,” Gakushuu says, right before throwing an unopened bag of chips at him.

They both end up covered in far too many chips, and Gakushuu refuses to kiss him for wasting his study break in this fashion. The pout Karma gives him might be cute if it was actually sincere.

“So,” his roommate-turned-boyfriend says as they're cleaning up the mess they've made before any stray passersby come along and see them. “Since you want to give this some definition. Day one, 7:30 PM, dating Karma Akabane. Impressions?”

“Hm.” Gakushuu clears some crumbs off the bench they were sitting on. “A decent kisser,” he acknowledges, “but the personality needs improvement. As does the quality of food.”

“Coming from you, that's high praise,” Karma says.

“Day one, 7:30 PM, dating Gakushuu Asano. Impressions?”

“Not bad,” Karma says. “Could tone down the ‘I want to incapacitate you’ stares, Exhibit A: right now, but-”

Gakushuu shoves him in the shoulder, almost knocking him into the wall. Since Karma is already trapped anyway, Gakushuu decides to take advantage of the opportunity to kiss him for what, the sixth, seventh time that day? He's kind of lost count by this point.

“I need to go back to studying,” he says. “Seo will wonder where I am. Whatever you were doing before, don't do it.”

Karma arranges his expression into one of perfect innocence. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“You were constructing a rocket out of recycled plastic bottles for charity, I'm sure,” Gakushuu drawls, and heads back into the library. He hears Karma’s snicker as the door falls shut. Gakushuu can only hopes he ends up taking his advice. 

* * *

“It’s been a few days.”

It’s not the first time Karma and Gakushuu have eaten dinner together — they both keep strange hours and come to the dining hall later than anyone else does, and when you’re the only two people in a room meant for at least a hundred, ignoring each other is awkward and illogical — but it is the first time they’ve eaten together since they started dating. The couch in the lobby of the Kunugigaoka cafeteria is hardly the most romantic place, but Gakushuu can’t help but think about it anyway.

“Gakushuu,” Karma repeats. “Did you hear what I said?”

Gakushuu shakes himself out of his reverie. “I’m sorry. Yes, I did. It’s been a few days. What’s your point?”

“A full five days, to be more precise,” Karma says, biting into his apple with a crunch. “So I can tell people about our relationship now.”

“Yes. Why?”

“Just texted Nagisa.” Karma sets down his phone in front of both of them. “Let’s see what he says.”

The reply comes less than a minute later.

 _That’s fantastic, Karma. Please restrain yourselves from taking over the world together.  
_ Nagisa Shiota, 8:37 PM

Karma raises an eyebrow. “He doesn’t seem surprised.”

Gakushuu experiences a brief flare of panic before remembering that Shiota probably wouldn’t tell Karma about their conversation, and besides, if he did, Gakushuu can fall back on one of his default plans: blackmail, bribery, murder, or another form of manipulation. Excluding Karma Akabane’s entire existence, one of those plans has always worked.

“Oh, well. I can rarely surprise Nagisa these days. I could show up on his doorstep with the prime minister’s bloodied corpse, and he’d accept it as another one of my antics.” Karma picks up his chopsticks, but then his phone chirps again, signaling another text.

 _Can I screenshot this? I’ll need evidence for when I demand ten thousand yen from Nakamura.  
_ Nagisa Shiota, 8:39 PM

Gakushuu and Karma exchange looks. “He doesn’t usually make bets,” Karma says, texting back a _For what?_ “That’s a bit unusual.”

 _I said that if you were going to get into a relationship with anyone, it would be Asano.  
_ Nagisa Shiota, 8:40 PM

The confusion on Karma’s face only grows. “Why would Nagisa bet on that?”

 _She disagreed. She said it’d be me.  
_ Nagisa Shiota, 8:40 PM

Gakushuu starts laughing. Karma fires off a _Take the screenshot_ before sighing. “That explains it, then.”

“She wasn’t far off-base, was she?”

“You sound awfully smug,” Karma says. “Well, do you want to take a turn and tell your father?”

“I will gouge out your eyes with a spoon, and then when everyone asks why you’re blind, you will have to explain that it’s because your own boyfriend gouged out your eyes with a cafeteria spoon. And then, at your funeral, I will let Ren write the eulogy in the form of a Japanese epic.”

“No bringing him up, then. I understand.” Karma points at his eyes for emphasis. “I’m hardly going to push you to confess your sins to Satan.”

“Don’t insult the devil like that,” Gakushuu says.

“You and your father are family goals, aren't you,” Karma drawls. “Don't worry, I understand what you mean. It would take someone far more powerful than Satan to have a child like you, let alone raise him.”

The thought of telling his father lingers in Gakushuu’s mind for the rest of the evening, even when they move on to other topics. Somehow, he doubts the older Asano’s reaction would be anything like Shiota’s.

* * *

When Gakushuu strides off the soccer field, his forehead dotted with sweat, he's surprised to see Karma waiting at the door to the locker room. "What are you doing here?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

Karma sips from his juice box. "Just wanted to see my boyfriend," he says, slinging an arm around Gakushuu's waist and nuzzling his cheek. Just like that, Gakushuu has gone from tired but satisfied to dizzy with want. "Anything wrong with that?"

"Karma," Gakushuu says, aware that a few members of the soccer team have stopped to stare. "You're being unusually affectionate."

That only makes Karma drag him closer. Their noses are practically bumping into each other. "That's because you looked really good out there," he murmurs. "I can't help it if I find it attractive."

Gakushuu thinks he's sweaty and could really use a shower right about now, but it's hard not to be flattered by Karma's sincere admiration. It _was_ a good game — he scored one of the two goals, and the other team didn't get a single one in — and he's proud of the team. "Thanks," he says, tilting his head just right, and their lips meet.

There's an audible gasp behind him. Karma smiles into the kiss, warm and bright and wild, one hand resting on Gakushuu's hip and the other around his neck. Gakushuu takes the opportunity to run his fingers through Karma's hair. It feels good against his skin. He pulls back for air and smiles back.

"I should change," he says. "And shower. Wait for me in the hallway?"

Karma kisses his cheek. "Sure."

As soon as his boyfriend's disappeared, one of the other soccer players whistle. Isobe. "Didn't know you were dating Akabane, Asano."

Even though Karma and Isobe despise each other, there's only deference and respect in Isobe's words. "Well, I am." Gakushuu shrugs.

"You could've at least told _us_ ," Araki complains as he holds open the door for Gakushuu. "If you wanted to keep it secret, we would have. You know that."

It's not that Gakushuu wants to keep it secret right now. It's been two weeks, and no obvious problems have cropped up. Karma has no fucks to give when it comes to other people's opinions, and Gakushuu's got the charisma and connections to smooth any drama over. They aren't sneaking around. It's that, well, Gakushuu doesn't see the need to be too open about it, not like he was with his other relationships. Maybe it's because he doesn't expect anything out of it.

He offers Araki a smile. "Sorry. I wasn't really thinking. You know I trust you."

Araki blinks, letting the door fall shut. "Yeah, okay. I know." Then, "Are you going to tell the rest?"

"In a moment." Gakushuu finishes changing, fielding a few more questions about his relationship with Karma as he does so. No one's stupid enough to ask dumb, sappy questions like _when did you confess?_ and _is he nice?_ or whatever he faced back in junior high, until someone does.

"Is he a good kisser?"

There's a teasing lilt in the boy's voice — he's someone from the other school, so Gakushuu doesn't recognise him — but also a hint of daring. He's nervous. Gakushuu turns to him and grins, a little sharp but not terrifying. "Very."

The boys all _ooh_ at once like they're curious elementary schoolers in a game of truth-or-dare, but Gakushuu ignores the _Care to elaborate, Asano?_ He shoots off a text to the groupchat instead.

 _I'm dating Karma._  
Gakushuu Asano in Seo what?, 4:37 PM

He picks up his bag and heads for the door. Let Araki deal with whatever questions they have for the next hour or two. In the meantime, Gakushuu's going to shower in the dorms — the locker room's showers are disgusting, he'll probably catch a life-threatening disease by stepping in there — and study for his upcoming civics test.

And cuddle a bit, he decides as he steps out into the hallway, Karma waiting for him. Yeah. He could really use that right now. Still, he bats away Karma's attempts to touch him again. "I'm sweaty," he complains. "If you cling to me, you'll get all sweaty too, and then I won't kiss you."

Karma pouts. "But don't you love me, sweaty or not?"

"I also love being clean," Gakushuu says, setting off down the hallway, even as he has to flinch at how easily Karma throws around the word _love_ as easily as _basketball_ or _class_ or _hello_.

Karma sighs. "So did anyone interrogate you about me while you were in there?"

Gakushuu stops mid-stride. "Did you do that on purpose?"

"Do what on purpose?"

"Stop me outside the locker room where everyone could see. The way you wrapped yourself around me, like—" Gakushuu chews on his lip. "Marking your territory."

"Marking my territory?"

Okay, yeah. That sounds ridiculous, not because Karma wouldn't do it, but because anyone would know better than to do it to Gakushuu Asano, of all people. "Announcing our relationship."

"A little bit. I figured it was about ti—"

"Asano!"

Gakushuu turns around to see Araki stepping into the hallway. His features are all arrogance and assurance like he was born into it, but Gakushuu's known him for three and a half years and there's a flicker of uncertainty. Araki has always been at his side, though, so he catches up to them even if there's a newcomer on the _other_ side.

Gakushuu acknowledges him with a nod and pinches Karma's side. Karma coughs to muffle the pain.

Gakushuu starts babbling to Araki about the soccer match and how they'll do against the next school; Araki responds easily with comments on their team, and when Karma joins in to talk about what he saw as a spectator, the green-haired boy doesn't bat an eyelash.

It's all going well when Gakushuu reaches the dorm and checks his phone. As Araki and Karma chatter away next to him — dancing around each other, more like, but gracefully so — he reads the texts he's missed.

 _Whoa. Did I read that right? Asano has a boyfriend, and it's Karma Akabane?_  
Tomoya Seo in Seo what?, 4:38 PM

 _Yes, that's right._  
Teppei Araki in Seo what?, 4:38 PM

 _Asano, are you serious? Akabane is a delinquent and a piece of shit. Since when are you into him?_  
Tomoya Seo in Seo what?, 4:39 PM

That's as expected. Gakushuu's forehead creases in thought, but the next message hits him harder.

 _Agreed._  
Ren Sakakibara in Seo what?, 4:39 PM

He drops his phone into his bag as Araki politely excuses himself, since they've reached his room. Karma walks with Gakushuu to their own room in silence.

"For someone who said in last week's assembly that Araki is a pretentious asshole for his excessive jump cuts and you fell asleep during the media club's video, you got along with him pretty well," he says, setting his bag down on the bed.

Karma shrugs. "It didn't really seem worth it to make fun of him. Even I'm not that petty."

Gakushuu smiles as he heads off to take his much-desired shower.

Ren's text weighs in the back of his mind.

* * *

The next morning, it’s a little awkward when he sits down next to Ren, but the Virtuosos all exchange their usual greetings, though a few are bit more curt than usual. Araki gives him a stare that says _fix this_ before turning to answer Kiyomoto’s roll call.

The rest of the class doesn’t notice, of course, all too buried in their notes or chatting with each other. Kiyomoto finishes taking roll call and immediately launches into a math lecture, handing out worksheets to fill out as she goes along.

Gakushuu’s head is bent as he studies the worksheet she’s laid out in front of him when something smacks him in the back of the head. Scowling, he reaches down to the floor to pick up an airplane. Karma. Stupid idiot.

“Akabane!” Kiyomoto says sharply. “If you wish to conduct yourself so poorly, be my guest, but kindly do not do it in the middle of a lesson. I am trying to _teach._ Asano, are you alright?”

Gakushuu’s about to throw it away when he sees Karma’s messy scrawl on one wing. Unfolding it, he squints down at the writing there. _Math problem for the genius: Gakushuu + Karma = date at x. Solve for x. Select all solutions that apply._

Instead of an actual equation, it’s formatted like a multiple choice question, with three different options: a restaurant down the street from the campus, a fancier one out in the city, and an ice cream parlour a ten-minute drive away.

He glances at Kiyomoto, trying to restrain a smile as he circles all three options and adds a note at the bottom: _Is this your idea of being romantic?_ He folds it up into a small square and shoves it into his pocket. “It’s fine, sensei. Don’t worry.”

Kiyomoto blinks at him. “Pardon?”

“It’s quite alright, really,” Gakushuu says, ignoring the stunned looks the other classmates are giving up. It’s hard to feel homicidal given the contents of the paper airplane, although he’s sure he’ll want to kill Karma later anyway. “I’m not injured.”

The teacher looks at him for a second, and Gakushuu could swear he hears her mutter _I suspect Ashida will be winning the bet against Maki_ under her breath before she smiles at him. “Very well, then. Let’s return to this equation, shall we?”

On the way out the door to lunch, Gakushuu drops the paper on Karma’s desk, but not without catching the stare Ren aims their way.

* * *

“Akabane.”

Karma turns to see four faces, all scowling at him. Suspiciously, their leader is missing. Seo is in the lead, and when he makes eye contact with Karma, his lips curl into a sneer. Already, Karma’s fists itch. Gakushuu doesn't know it, but Karma's been getting into fights even more than he lets on; he just rarely does it on campus anymore. He might make an exception today, though.

He stifles the urge. “What?”

“We have to talk,” Seo says, emphasizing the _we_. “About Asano.”

Karma’s eyes flicker. _He_ calls Asano by his first name, but the Virtuosos don’t? Interesting. Araki did that yesterday, too. “What about him?”

“Asano likes you, for whatever reason,” Seo says, in a tone that makes it clear he doesn’t share the sentiment. “He trusts you, which is unusual – but we don’t. We’ve known you for years, Akabane.” 

Karma leans against the wall, arms crossed in that classic delinquent pose that drives authority figures and anybody as pretentious as the Virtuosos insane. “What about it?” he drawls.

Seo’s eyes flash. “Don’t hurt him, or you’ll have us to answer to.”

Karma’s mouth falls open. It’s too hard not to show how dumbfounded he is; of all the people he expected to receive the “be nice to him or we’ll kill you” spiel from, the Virtuosos were close to the bottom of the list. “Since when do you care about Asano?”

“You don’t know shit about us, Akabane,” someone says. Sakakibara. He stands beside Seo, his trademark flirtatious smirk nowhere in sight. “Or Gakushuu, for that matter.”

Ah, so someone _does_ get to use Gakushuu’s first name. Sakakibara suddenly seems a bit more interesting than he did thirty seconds ago.

“I’m sure that I could never hurt him,” Karma says as the boy looms over him — comes with the slouching, unfortunately. “ _Gakushuu_ knows how to defend himself.”

The four Virtuosos exchange glances, all at once. Their hivemind synchronisation is impressive.

“We aren’t worried about you physically hurting him,” Araki clarifies. His tone isn’t as harsh as Seo’s or Sakakibara’s, but his gaze is coolly distant. _And it seemed for about five minutes as if he could’ve liked me, too._ “Asano could take you down any time he wants. But he doesn’t, because he cares about you.”

“Aww.” It clicks. “You’re worried I’ll hurt his feelings.”

“Essentially.” 

“It’s debatable whether your fearless leader has any.” Karma lifts his shoulders in an infuriating shrug. “But don’t worry. I won’t hurt Gakushuu. I mean, I actually do like him, you know, even if I can’t quite pull off that blind worship you all like to go for.”

Karma’s voice is all dismissal and unconcern and arrogance, and he can practically see the steam coming out of their ears. He thinks this is a pretty good note to end the conversation on. As he pushes off the wall and makes his way past them, Koyama grabs his shoulder.

“Call it worship if you like,” he says, baring a mouthful of crooked teeth, “but it’s not blind.”

Curiously, Karma walks away from that conversation with the beginnings of respect for the Virtuosos.

Never mind that, though. He files it away in the back of his mind. He has two restaurants and an ice cream parlour to worry about.

* * *

Karma only even really hints at it once, when they're eating ice cream together that Saturday, and Gakushuu is threatening to decapitate him if he keeps stealing his M&Ms.

“You’d hardly have to,” Karma says. “Your minions would do it for you.”

Gakushuu just snorts, beautiful and for once truly ignorant, and says, “I once saw Seo try to fend off a flock of pigeons with a copy of _Winnie the Pooh_ ,” and Karma decides to leave it at that.

* * *

It’s on the Thursday before a three-day weekend that Gakushuu gives in. 

“I won’t be here tonight,” he says, and Gakushuu does not blurt it because he never says anything without having carefully reviewed it first, thank you very much, but he’s close. He almost goes into cardiac arrest just saying the words. It’s as bad as _I love you._

Karma is curled up on the bed, poring over his history textbook. He glances up, his mercury eyes zeroing in on Gakushuu. They have plans for the weekend, after all, and it’s strange for Gakushuu to announce he’s just going to up and leave. “Why?”

“I want to—“ Gakushuu pauses. He doesn’t _want_ to. He’s _going_ to. “I’m telling my dad that we’re dating.”

Karma blinks. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. He’ll find out sooner or later, and I’d rather break the news to him personally.” Gakushuu’s already fumbling for his phone; he can’t help it if his hands shake a bit. He texts his father, _I assume you haven’t eaten yet. Can I come over for dinner tonight? There’s something I’d like to talk about_. Karma watches him with bemused eyes.

“I’m not forfeiting the bet,” Gakushuu says as an afterthought. Another competition they’d set up in order to resolve — and by “resolve,” they always mean “get each other to admit defeat” — an argument. “I’ll be back in time for our movie marathon. If you think you can scare me with a horror film, you’re welcome to try.”

Karma smirks. “I might actually forfeit myself. If you can handle something as terrifying as your family life, I’m wasting my time.”

“Oh? So you’re giving up on the bet?”

“We’ll see.” Karma drums his fingers against the textbook’s spine. “Get back in one piece, and I might let you win.”

“I don’t need you to let me,” Gakushuu says, smirking right back even as his phone chimes and he almost drops it.

 _Certainly. I’ve sent a driver_.  
Gakuhou Asano, 5:41 PM

“You could just call him and tell him,” Karma says when Gakushuu doesn’t speak. His eyes rest intently on his roommate’s face. Gakushuu wonders what expression he’s wearing right now.

“No.” He blows out a breath. “This matters. It hasn’t happened before.”

Karma laughs. “You’ve never dated someone before? Even if I didn’t know about Sato, with your trail of stalkers, I’d find that hard to believe.”

“You know it’s discouraged when you’re still a student.” Not that Karma’s ever discouraged by anything. Gakushuu’s lips quirk into a wry smile. “Anyway, that’s not what I mean. I’ve dated people before, but Father only needs to take one look at them to understand that they’re. . .”

“Pawns?” Karma offers, his tone devoid of judgment.

“Essentially.” Beautiful, starry-eyed girls and gorgeous, reverent boys who either touched Gakushuu too lightly or too much, like they couldn’t believe he was there. People who could advance his social status, enhance his public image and introduce him to new allies. In the rare occasions he indulges himself and dates someone simply because he likes them, he does have fun, but it never lasts long. Gakushuu can’t let anyone distract him.

He wonders how Karma is different. He just can’t seem to pin things down when it comes to the redhead.

“Well.” Karma’s eyes pierce into him, like he can read whatever scattered pieces of Gakushuu’s soul remain within him. It’s not a comfortable feeling. “If that’s so, does that make me a king?”

Gakushuu’s eyebrows go up. “In any chess game, kings need to constantly be protected.” 

“From having to put effort into anything, you mean. I think that’s a great deal.” Karma tosses the textbook aside and stretches out on his bed, lazy enough to rival a sloth.

Despite the ugly, nervous feeling in his stomach, Gakushuu laughs. Then jumps as his phone chimes again.

 _The driver should be at the front gate in twenty minutes.  
_ Gakuhou Asano, 5:43 PM

“Tell me about the people you dated,” Karma says, pulling the blanket up over himself. “I’ve met Sato, but I know there’s others.”

Gakushuu laughs again. “Are you jealous?" 

“Of course not. I know you love me the most. After all, who doesn’t?”

“Hm. I don’t know, but I’m sure I could think of a few who are hardly your greatest fans,” Gakushuu retorts, as if the list of names wouldn’t scare an encyclopedia. If he starts rattling off people right now, he’ll take up the entire weekend.

“You wound me. How many people have you dated?”

Gakushuu frowns, leaning back against the bed. “Besides you, six. If you count that one girl in fifth grade, then seven, but we only dated for a week and a half.” His frown deepens in thought. “I also once pretended to be Ren’s boyfriend.”

Karma whistles. “Why?”

“He was going to bring his girlfriend to a family reunion, but she broke up with him two days beforehand. His family didn’t know that she was a girl, so I offered to fill in."

“Wow, the idea of you and Ren kissing for his family’s benefit—“

“Kindly stop thinking whatever’s going on in your mind right now. We didn’t kiss.”

“It’s not a bad idea. Ren gets around a lot, and I bet he’s a great kisser.“

“Oh my God,” said Gakushuu as an involuntary image pops into his mind of Karma aggressively hitting on Ren. Or Ren aggressively hitting on Karma. The concept of them together horrifies Gakushuu. “That is the gayest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Be as gay as you want, but don’t be gay with my best friend, please."

Karma shrugs. “Your attractive, experienced, probably-great-at-kissing best friend.”

“If you cheat on me with Ren, of all—“

“Anyway. Who else?”

Gakushuu racks his brain. Most of his memories are pleasant. He’s never really dated anyone who could seriously hurt him, namely because that particular list isn’t long. Six people. Three boys and three girls. He wouldn’t have stayed with any of them, and none of them attended Kunigigaoka for high school regardless. “They were all good people, and I would’ve been happy with them.”

“I’m not seeing the correlation between those two.”

“Because I’m not a good person?”

“Because _I’m_ not, but here we are.”

An amused laugh. “Don’t get all self-deprecating on me, Karma. I like your unwavering narcissism better.”

Karma props up his chin with his elbows. “You know, I think we’re getting into the ‘oh no, emotions’ territory here, which might not be a good idea if you’re seeing Satan Sr. tonight. How about you prepare for your serious talk with him while I queue up the horror films?”

“Emotions, that unfamiliar and rare specimen,” Gakushuu drawls, and the smirk Karma gives him is _perfect_.

He doesn’t bring anything to his house except for his cell phone. During the ride there, he opens up his messages and navigates to a conversation window with Karma, but his forehead creases. No. Not tonight.

 _How do you tell someone that you have a boyfriend now?  
_ Gakushuu Asano in Candidates for World Domination, 6:15 PM

 _Who is it?  
_ Natsuhiko Koyama in Candidates for World Domination, 6:15 PM

 _My father.  
_ Gakushuu Asano in Candidates for World Domination, 6:15 PM

 _Asano, if I were you, I wouldn’t talk. I’d just run.  
_ Ren Sakakibara in Candidates for World Domination, 6:16 PM

Gakushuu rolls his eyes. The Virtuosos have survived meetings with his father before. He winces at the memory of finals last year, and how painful it had been to admit to 3-E that the A Class — Gakushuu’s class, the junior high’s pride and joy, the group he’d so carefully molded into loyal and accomplished followers — was on the wrong path.

 _Don’t get hurt.  
_ Ren Sakakibara in Candidates for World Domination, 6:16 PM

 _I’ll be fine. Koyama? Araki?  
_ Gakushuu Asano in Candidates for World Domination, 6:16 PM

 _Just say it. Be straightforward. “I’m dating Karma Akabane.”  
_ Teppei Araki in Candidates for World Domination, 6:17 PM

 _Nothing’s ever straightforward with Asano’s family.  
_ Ren Sakakibara in Candidates for World Domination, 6:17 PM

Gakushuu rolls his eyes again, harder this time. Ren’s worrying is excessive. He types out another _I’m fine_ and turns off his phone, leaving himself to stare out the window. It’s a nice evening, with the something-like-a-crescent moon glowing faintly in the sky. It makes Gakushuu think fleetingly of the teacher he never knew, and then that makes him think of Karma. He opens up their chat history and smiles a bit as he skims through yesterday’s messages. Karma’s last message reads _, pretty sure i just saw you jump when araki put his hand on your shoulder <3 can’t wait to win that bet and get your side of the room too!_ 

The car pulls to a stop in front of the Asanos’ house. Gakushuu permits himself one deep exhale for good luck, and steps out.

* * *

He’s smiling at his father before he knows it. Putting down his bag, he exchanges the obligatory pleasantries about school and other activities. Yes, the student council is going fine; Ren is an excellent secretary, and Seo’s performing well as treasurer. Oh, yes, Gakushuu will run for executive council next year. Secretary. He thinks he can make it. Really, he only held off this year because you’re required to have one year of student council experience before you run for executive. Also, he might drop French. How’s Father’s school going? Are the students going to be good as they are at Kunugigaoka? Oh, they probably aren’t yet, but he wants to make them as good? Well, Gakushuu’s not going to say anything, but as long as one Asano remains at Kunugigaoka. . .

“But I assume you aren’t here to talk to me about how I’m doing with my school,” Father says, right after he mentions that he’s officially become qualified to be a substitute teacher at Kunugigaoka High and Gakushuu’s still recovering from almost choking on his food. He’s deliberately thrown Gakushuu off balance, right before asking the big question. “What do you need to tell me, Gakushuu?”

 _Make eye contact_ , Gakushuu reminds himself, lifting his chin. He’s thankful that he swallowed before Father started talking. “I’m seeing someone.”

Father’s eyebrows go up. He spears a piece of chicken on his fork. “Oh? Who is it, then?”

 _No deep breath, no flinching, no white knuckles while you’re gripping your spoon._ “Karma.”

A pause. Father chews on his chicken in thoughtful contemplation. “Well, I hardly have any objections.”

Gakushuu gives him a slight smile as he returns to his meal. “Thank you, Father.”

“He is one of Kunugigaoka’s best students,” Father continues. “That in itself makes him one of the best matches possible for you, and I applaud him for the determination and cleverness with which he must have pursued someone such as you.”

 _Oh, God_. If that’s what Father’s going to say, Gakushuu has no idea what to tell Karma when he returns to his dorm, considering that Karma thinks too highly of himself as it is. Gakushuu’s concerned that if he quotes Father on this, the universe will simply explode because it can’t make any more space for Karma’s ever-expanding ego. 

However, Father isn’t finished. “I was relieved to learn that you two had befriended each other, although less so to receive an email from the school last week informing me that you’d chased each other around Ms. Kiyomoto’s homeroom and knocked over half the desks in the process.”

Gakushuu glances up, assessing whether he’s in trouble. Father’s smile is serene. “Don’t worry, Gakushuu. I’m merely noting that the two of you still have room for character growth. Nonetheless, I’m pleased that you’ve gotten so far. Karma Akabane is, in his own curious way, an excellent match for you, and I think Karma Asano certainly isn’t a bad-sounding na—“

“Father,” Gakushuu says. “We aren’t getting married.” Not that he isn’t delighted by the idea that Karma will be taking his name.

“You don’t know that for sure, Asano.”

“We’re sixteen.”

“It hardly hurts to plan in advance. What’s Karma’s favourite colour?”

Gakushuu inhales. Asano Sr. is definitely teasing him. “Why?”

“Every wedding needs a colour scheme. Your mother and I chose red, which worked fetchingly.” Father’s spoon clinks against his bowl. “You should also consider what flowers you’d like.”

 _Poisonous ones_ , Gakushuu thinks, but he allows himself to smile anyway.

* * *

“So how it’d go?”

It’s kind of embarrassing, how Gakushuu practically melts into Karma’s arms after only a few weeks of dating. Not that anyone can see. He grabs the blanket and wraps it around the two of them, until they’re curled up together in a warm blanket burrito — and holy shit, Gakushuu did not just think the phrase _warm blanket burrito_. It’s so couple-y, it’s sickening.

“Quite well,” he says as Karma tucks his chin against Gakushuu’s shoulder. “Judging by the fact he assumed we’ll get married soon, he’s okay with it." 

“Hm. I’m fairly sure that a priest has to be at the wedding to sanctify the marriage, Gakushuu, and who knows if your father will be able to shake his hand without dissolving into ashes — fuck!” Karma dissolves into pathetic wheezing. Gakushuu snatches the remote away from him as he’s recovering from the elbow to the ribs. “Okay, okay. We don’t need a priest, anyway. I’ve always wanted to get married on the fiery shores of Hell — ow!”

“Just start the movie so I can win this bet and have jurisdiction over your side of the room for a week,” Gakushuu says, and Karma presses the play button on the remote, still laughing. 

* * *

January is a chilly month. Gakushuu isn't sure why that should surprise anyone.

“Ugh. Why is it so cold.”

“You are buried beneath two blankets and half a dozen pillows, and the radiator is right next to you. Short of setting the room on fire, you're not going to get any warmer than that, and don't get any ideas.”

“There goes plans B through Z,” Karma mumbles, burying himself so deeply in the blankets Gakushuu can only see the top of his head. “Aren't you cold?”

Gakushuu hunches further over his desk, staring at his social studies notes. “No.”

“You’re cold.” When Gakushuu opens his mouth to reply, Karma adds, “I just heard your teeth chatter.”

“It doesn't matter if I’m cold or not. I need to get this assignment done.”

“It’s not even due for another two weeks.”

Gakushuu hears Karma drag himself out of bed, blankets dragging across the floor, but doesn’t turn until he sees a shadow fall on his notes. “Go away.”

“You’ll need a better insult than that to have any dreams of making me leave you alone,” Karma says, draping the blanket across Gakushuu’s front and yanking, like some kind of enormous blanket lasso. It might actually work, because holy shit, does Gakushuu sometimes forget how strong Karma is, but not now. The chair inches backwards with a screech.

“Karma,” Gakushuu says, trying to escape his new prison and failing because the angle the blanket is at is suffocating him. “If you don’t fuck off, I will strangle you with these sheets.”

“It’s only Saturday morning, and already you’re bringing out the foul language,” Karma says, clicking his tongue. He looks Gakushuu dead in the eye and drags the chair back until he’s right next to his bed, spins the chair around, and pushes, shoving Gakushuu into the pile of pillows, blanket and all.

“Akabane—” Gakushuu snarls, twisting around, but he's too late. Karma kicks the chair away and promptly lands on top of Gakushuu, pinning him down. There's some rather undignified kicking and rolling about before Gakushuu finally surrenders, squashed against the wall with Karma’s arms encircling him and both of them buried in blankets. “I hate you.”

“I know. That's what makes life interesting.” Karma kisses his forehead. “If you want, I'll bring you your homework so you can do it here.”

Gakushuu elbows Karma in the ribs, enjoying his pathetic wheezing for a moment before saying, “You better, or else I’ll ditch you for Ren’s room.”

“That would be a cruel fate indeed,” Karma says, fetching his homework for him. He settles back into the bed. “See, that was a fairly simple process. You have your homework, and I have my own personal heater. No need for violence.”

“I think that's the only time I'll ever hear you say _No need for violence_ ,” Gakushuu says wryly, peering down at his notes.

They’re content to sit there in silence, Karma typing on his phone and Gakushuu working on his assignment when he realises the telltale sound of Karma’s keyboard clicking away has stopped. He turns to see that Karma's gazing intently at him, a peculiar look in his mercury eyes. Gakushuu stops in the middle of a problem about analyzing misleading statistics and frowns. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been staring at me for at least a full minute. Is something wrong?”

“No, no, it's nothing,” Karma says, but his lips twitch as he looks at Gakushuu. “I just like looking at you sometimes. You're cute.”

Gakushuu flushes slightly, which is no doubt exactly the reaction Karma was trying to get out of him. Damn him and the sincerity in his voice and the beginning of a shit-eating grin on his face. “Thank you, I suppose,” he says.

January is a chilly month, but it's a happy one.

* * *

On Valentine’s Day, it's Gakushuu's turn to be the romantic. It only sort of works. 

“Gakushuu?” Karma picks up the box of chocolates with a frown on his face, and _fuck fuck fuck what if he doesn’t like them stop hyperventilating you idiot you know what he likes you had an hour-long conversation about chocolate only last week —_

“Yes?” Gakushuu asks, striving to seem nonchalant. There’s no way his voice cracks on a one-syllable word. Not at all.

“Did you lose this?” There’s a perplexed frown on Karma’s face. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you left this on the wrong bed. You’d better hurry and give it to whoever you’re planning to romance.”

It takes five entire seconds for Gakushuu to register Karma’s words. _Onetwothreefourfive_ , as he comes to a horrible, horrible revelation. His expression is completely blank as he stares at Karma.

The revelation is this: he’s dating a complete and absolute moron.

“I didn’t leave them on the wrong bed,” he says, his voice utterly devoid of emotion. Gakushuu does not know if he ever will feel this _done_ with another human being for as long as he lives, and if he has his way, one of his lackeys will have figured out the secret to immortality for him. He cannot believe he was on the verge of passing out from anxiety over this idiot.

Karma looks at the box of chocolates. Looks at Gakushuu. Looks at the box of chocolates. The realisation dawning on his face is way, _way_ too much for a student who’s scoring in the nineties for all of his subjects. “Oh.”

“Yes,” Gakushuu says. “ _Oh._ ”

“In my defence,” Karma says after a prolonged silence, “chocolate is a powerful persuasive tool. I know your favourite methods for getting what you want are bribery, blackmail, and violence, and you haven’t been doing much of the first lately, so—”

“Go to hell,” Gakushuu says, lunging at Karma, and kisses him.

Karma laughs against Gakushuu’s lips, warm and reckless and so, so _stupid;_ Gakushuu cannot believe he scored a 493 on the second term finals, considering that he’s an _idiot._ He bites down softly on Karma’s bottom lip, not hard enough to hurt. The other boy sighs with pleasure.

They kiss until they have to come up for air, and then Gakushuu says in a falsetto, “ _I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you left this on the wrong bed._ ”

“That’s a poor imitation of my v—“

“We’ve been dating for a month, asshole!” Gakushuu presses his forehead against Karma’s and exhales, releasing only a microscopic amount of his pent-up frustration.

Karma’s eyes light up. “Ooh, Gakushuu _like_ - _likes_ me,” he sings out. “He has feelings for me, isn’t that adorable?”

“You never miss an opportunity to be obnoxious, do you?” Gakushuu eyes Karma, leaning back against the bedpost.

“Ah, so cruel. You should simply admit that you’re wildly in love with me, Gakushuu. Denying your feelings can be quite painful, I hear.”

“Fine, then. I’m wildly in love with you.”

“You’re so — wait, what?”

Gakushuu smirks at Karma’s astonished expression. “I said it. I’m wildly in love with you, Karma.”

“Oh.” Karma appears to give this careful consideration. “I’d be mean to not say it back, wouldn’t I?”

“Yes, that would be callous indeed.”

“Okay. I’m wildly in love with you, too.” Karma leans forward to kiss Gakushuu again until they’re both gasping for breath and when Gakushuu checks out the mirror in the corner, he knows he’ll have to comb his hair before he goes out. Karma reaches behind him for the box of chocolates and pops off the lid, which is heart-shaped and pink and kind of silly, but whatever, Karma loves pink anyway.

"It's Valentine's Day," Karma says after a moment, regarding the box. He pops a strawberry-flavoured one into his mouth and makes a noise of delight. A little bit of Gakushuu that he forgot was still tensed up relaxes at the sound. It’s good to know Karma’s enjoying it.

"I've noticed that, yes."

Karma snuggles up against Gakushuu's shoulder, his head fitting into the curve of his boyfriend's neck. He hums in contentment. "We're not celebrating this holiday to its full potential," he says.

Gakushuu frowns. Karma is using that _I have an idea_ voice now, and it can signify either amazing things to come, or horrible ones. With Karma, it's often both. "What do you mean?"

"We're a couple." Karma eats another chocolate. "Do you know how many couple benefits there are on Valentine's Day? Restaurants will be like, _here, have free food,_ and shops will give you discounts on couple-themed products. Nagisa and I wanted to do this in our first year in junior high, but all the shopkeepers dismissed us as too young." His mischievous smile droops as he reminisces over the tragedy of it.

Gakushuu scoffs. "You think we're old enough now?"

"Sixteen is a perfectly acceptable age," Karma says. "Anyway, don't you want free food and discounts? All we have to do is say we're a couple, which isn't a lie at all. There's no reason this isn't okay. We're not lying or threatening or bribing."

Gakushuu takes one of Karma's coconut chocolates, since he knows Karma hates that flavour anyway and likely wouldn't eat it. "You have a fair point. Let's do it."

Karma blinks. "Really?"

"Really. I don't turn down cheaper prices, and I’d like to go out with you on a date right now, since it's Valentine's. Let's go."

Karma beams. It's only ninety-five percent obnoxious for once, instead of ninety-eight.

They settle on a fairly nice restaurant, a little pricey but not over-the-top expensive, in a building high enough to have a gorgeous view of the city skyline – that is, to take poetic-looking photos together that really don't turn out that well because they're selfies and _no, Karma, I have longer arms just let me hold the camera —_

There's a five percent discount for all couples. The waitress frowns at them when they approach, and she seems sceptical of their claim. So Karma turns to Gakushuu and kisses him. In public. For longer than is strictly necessary.

At least there isn't tongue.

"I hope that was enough for you, ma'am," Gakushuu says, cheeks flushed, although he can pretend it's just the February chill if anyone asks. Karma loops an arm through his and smiles with exaggerated brightness.

"Oh, yes, that was," the waitress replies with a flush to match his, and escorts them inside. They have a booth on the side, where Karma immediately grabs a menu, sits against the window with his elbow propping up his chin, and demands that Gakushuu take a pretentious picture of him.

The food is good, but Karma insists on eating like a starving wolf, and it draws the attention of several other couples. No one else here is younger than their twenties, so Gakushuu isn't concerned about the news getting back to school. Honestly, he's not entirely unused to Karma embarrassing himself in public. The redhead just doesn't have any shame.

"This reminds me of our first date," Karma says while still chewing on a piece of steak. "You know, at the fair."

Gakushuu tilts his head. "I didn't think that was a date."

"It wasn't meant to be, but, well." Karma shrugs. "Watching the play was actually the sappiest thing I’d done for months."

"Same here," Gakushuu concedes. "Sappy in a platonic way, because I didn't believe you'd ask me out by convincing me to skip school."

"Ah, your definition of the romantic is so disappointingly conventional." Karma polishes off the rest of the breadsticks at their table and waves over the waitress so she can get them more. Gakushuu is slightly horrified that this person is his boyfriend.

After dinner, they wander through a street full of little shops. Most of them aren't too busy, and out front are signs discussing, as Karma predicted, couple discounts. They visit everywhere from a bookstore to a video game store to a stationery store; thankfully, they don't have to “prove” that they're a couple again. 

* * *

Sheltered by the shade of the tree in his backyard, Gakushuu watches Ren eat his way through the cookies his parents baked, slow but sure. The entire platter will be gone by sundown. “I hope you're appreciating that properly,” he says. “My mother put blood, sweat, and tears into finding the perfect brand of chocolate chips.”

“I'm appreciating it the same way I appreciate beautiful poetry,” Ren promises, polishing off another cookie. “Which is to say, very much. It's a beautiful piece of artwork.”

“Save a few for me, at least.”

“I wouldn't dream of anything else.”

Gakushuu grins at him. “I'll hold you to that.” He picks up a soccer ball and starts kicking it around the backyard. Ren sits next to the house’s back door, content to work on the platter of cookies and watch his best friend.

“I keep trying to understand your relationship with Akabane, but I don’t.”

Stopping the ball with his foot, Gakushuu gives Ren a searching look. “You don’t need to.”

“No, I suppose not.” Ren sets down the plate.

“Ren,” Gakushuu says. “If you’ve been harbouring a secret crush on me for the past few years, you should probably tell me.”

Ren bursts out laughing. “Not at all. Thank God. I feel sorry for Karma Akabane.”

“As do I,” Gakushuu concedes. “You just — seem unusually resentful, even compared to the other Virtuosos. Almost jealous.”

“It’s. . .” Ren won’t look Gakushuu in the eyes. “It’s just that, well, you like him.”

“I’m as surprised as you are.”

“Yes. I don’t want you to get hurt.” The rueful curve of Ren’s mouth is nothing like his usual smirk. “You’d _let_ him hurt you. I don’t know the last time that’s happened, if it ever has.”

Gakushuu sighs. “Yes. I hope he’s worth it.”

“You believe in him?”

“I do.”

“Okay,” Ren says. “Then I’ll try to believe in him as well.”

“So does that mean the way you've been for the past few weeks around me will change, or do you plan to give Karma the stink eye forever?”

Ren cocks his head. “You are aware that all of us hated him for years, and you decided to do an abrupt three-sixty after several months of complaining about what a horror he is to live with.”

“I am, yes.” Gakushuu watches the soccer ball bounce off the fence and disappear into the grass. He doesn't bother retrieving it. “I know it seems sudden, and to be honest, he's still a horror to live with. It's simply not as straightforward as it used to be.”

“I understand that,” Ren says. “I'll try to get along with him for your sake, but I still don't like him. Koyama isn't the only one who had his ranking plummet because of him.”

A beat of silence. “That's fine,” Gakushuu says, finally. “That's all I can ask for.”

 _Gakushuu Asano_ _has changed_ Seo what? _to_ Ren is the mom friend, _7:23 PM_  

Ren Sakakibara _has changed_ Ren is the mom friend _to_ Asano is clearly the mom friend, _7:35 PM_  

* * *

It wasn't until Karma Akabane happened — ah, yes, Karma is something that _happens,_ Gakushuu likes that idea, like Karma is a natural disaster — that Gakushuu starts thinking of eight AM as early, but eight AM is _early_ and Ms. Kiyomoto is not here and in her stead is his _father_.

Gakushuu stops in the doorway of the classroom, steadying himself with a hand on the doorframe and the Virtuosos' anchoring presence behind him. He wonders if this is a nightmare, but no.

"Father," he says, since he has to acknowledge the charismatic, smiling, superhuman elephant in the room. "What a pleasant surprise. You didn't tell me that you'd be here today."

Not that he's unprepared or anything.

"My apologies," Father says, looming at Kiyomoto's usual podium. His smile is not just his usual benevolence, but has an assured softness to it, an _I come in peace_ signal _._ "I only learned that I'd be the substitute yesterday night, and in the rush, I forgot to inform you."

Gakushuu is about to relax when Father does the most embarrassing thing that he could possibly imagine. His gaze slides over Gakushuu, surveying him, and lingers, curiously, on his neck.

Gakushuu keeps a calm, unconcerned smile on his face and heads over to his desk. Thankfully, he takes those few seconds to tuck in his collar, hiding the red and purple marks decorating his skin. Marks that Karma left last night, when he got bored and insisted on showing Gakushuu funny cat videos and cuddling with him and then the making out started and Gakushuu _swears_ he didn't think anyone would notice. It's happened before, and he’s always been fine. Damn Father for being so observant.

When Gakushuu turns back around to sit in his seat, he meets his father's eyes with a lift of the chin. Seriously, he dares Asano Sr. to bring up his love life in the middle of homeroom.

Asano Sr. does not. Instead, he tilts his head, signalling that he'll let it go for now, and says, "Well, it looks like class is about to start. Let's have roll call. Karma Akabane?"

"Here," Karma says through a mouthful of food.

Gakushuu restrains a grimace. Maybe today will at least make Father rescind his too-high opinion of Karma and cease all discussion of wedding plans. 

* * *

Things only get even more awkward when, at lunch, Father sees the Virtuosos in their usual place in the courtyard.

It's worse that today is one of those rare days where Karma's decided to join them. Gakushuu has made it clear that Karma's welcome — Gakushuu's decided that all students are, because he is a ruler and must develop connections with his people, and that means he needs to be there for them when they need it — but neither of them really care enough to make it into a thing, and besides, the other Virtuosos still dislike Karma. Ren has gotten better, and Araki's too laid-back to mind much, but Koyama still has a grudge and Seo is — well, Seo.

Karma's curled up next to Gakushuu in the grass, not quite cuddling but close enough to it that they receive a few whistles and amused glances from passersby. Gakushuu's indulging him because they're both a bit tired today, and it's comforting. The moment he registers his father's footsteps, however, he straightens in alarm. Karma makes a noise of complaint, having found himself missing his human pillow, but stiffens at the sight of Asano Sr.'s pensive violet eyes.

"Gakushuu," his father says. His son starts to rise, but he waves a hand. "No need. I'm merely on my way to the photocopier, and I happened to see you here with your friends."

He lingers enough on the word _friends_ that Karma frowns. "Gakushuu is my boyfriend," he says matter-of-factly, with the manner of one who's confident he's informed someone of something new and enlightening, when in fact he's just said the ridiculously basic.

"Yes, I apologize. I was acknowledging Gakushuu's friends here," Father says with an amiable laugh, gesturing at the Virtuosos. "I hope you're taking care of my son. Make sure that temper of his doesn't get him into trouble, Akabane."

All three of them know that that is pure bullshit. Out of the corner of his eye, Gakushuu glimpses Seo restraining a smile. Karma doesn't bother with the restraining. "Yes, your son does sometimes lose control, but I've managed to — ow!"

"You should be on your way, Father," Gakushuu says, beaming up at him with all the subtlety of an anvil falling out of the sky. "The photocopier gets busy at lunch because that's when all the teachers print, but if you make it there before they're done eating, you'll get done more quickly."

Father smiles. "Thank you for the tip, Gakushuu." He turns, about to depart, but glances over his shoulder. "By the way, I wanted to say that I was in the staff room during my breaks, and I've heard some very flattering things about you from the teachers. I'm pleased with your performance."

Gakushuu blinks, taken aback. Father's praised him. Publicly. In the courtyard, where everyone can hear, and no doubt has, judging by their stares. Where _Karma,_ his biggest rival, can hear. "Thank you."

Father gives him a casual wave and strides away.

Karma waits one second, two seconds, three — and then elbows him in the ribs.

"Ow! You didn't have to do that."

"As compensation for what _you_ did," Karma says. His smile grows brighter. "You know, karma comes back to bite y—"

"Someone tell him to shut up," Seo says, massaging his temples, as if hearing the suggestion of the pun alone is enough to give him a headache.

Karma stage whispers, "I think your dad likes me."

"If you wanted to know that, you could've asked me," Gakushuu says. He wants to curl up again and doze against Karma until lunch is over, but everyone is watching, and he'll be groggy when he gets to class if he does. "He's always liked you. He just hasn't been around to prove it to you in person."

Karma yawns. "The Director — I mean, the ex-Director, whatever — _likes_ me. I have connections now. Can I get away with murder yet?"

"Keep talking, and I'll show you exactly how to get away with murder," Gakushuu grumbles, and gives in to his desires by flopping against Karma and leaning against his shoulder. "No one wake me up unless this loser tries to assassinate me."

"He's even started taking naps during lunch now," he hears Ren say as his eyes are slipping shut. "You're an awful influence."

"Not according to Gakuhou Asano," Karma says, and Gakushuu doesn't punch him, but only because it would upset the extremely comfortable position they're in.

* * *

With every month that passes, Gakushuu becomes more and more grateful for the existence of the few breaks Kunugigaoka has to spare. On the last three-day weekend of the year, he invites the Virtuosos over to his house — his dad will be away overnight, thank God, because they still seem freaked out by the older Asano from that meeting with him last year — and they manage to study together for about two hours before Seo puts an English movie on and everyone decides the new math packet can wait. Despite their reputations, they're only human.

Koyama and Seo haven't even been inside Gakushuu’s house before, and even with Ren, Gakushuu prefers to be at his friend’s house instead. Despite the unfamiliarity, it becomes comfortable quickly enough, and Gakushuu has a good time. They're just finishing up when Gakushuu’s phone chirps.

 _Can I come over?  
_ piece of utter fucking shit, 5:40 PM

Karma has never been to Gakushuu's house, and Gakushuu finds it a little odd he's asking on a Friday evening when he probably has other things to do.

As if sensing his hesitation, the phone chirps again.

 _My parents are home. I don't want to be in the house. If you’re busy, that's fine — I'll find someone else.  
_ piece of utter fucking shit, 5:41 PM

Gakushuu glances around the living room. Koyama and Araki are cleaning up by eating whatever leftover popcorn and chips remain in the snack bowls, and Seo is trying to explain the beauty of the English language to an unimpressed Ren, who survived the entire movie through Japanese subtitles. “When will you all be leaving?”

Seo and Araki both have to leave right away; Ren will be gone within the next twenty minutes, and Koyama the next half hour.

Instead of texting Karma, Gakushuu excuses himself to the bathroom — he knows it's not soundproof, but they won't be able to hear Karma at all in there, and he doesn't care if they hear Gakushuu — and calls him. Karma answers in two rings. “Is something wrong at your house?” Gakushuu asks.

“I don't care much for my parents, that's all. I’d rather not stay here, and if I go out alone, they'll suspect I'm out to cause trouble.”

It's Karma, so that's hardly an unfair assumption, but Gakushuu is still concerned. Karma’s voice is clear and articulate, lacking the hoarseness Gakushuu would expect if he was tired or cried recently. Until he sees him in person, though, he can't be sure. “Do you know my address?”

“No.”

Things must be serious if Karma's not making a joke about the Asanos living in a cave. Or Hell — Hell is always a good one to fall back on. “I'll text it to you. My friends are over here, but they'll be gone soon.”

“Thank you. I would rather have — Nagisa's on vacation, and a number of other friends are busy.”

“Karma,” Gakushuu says. “Mock my lack of empathy all you like, but I understand not wanting to be around your parents. Do you need transportation? There's a subway station close by, I'll text you that too.”

“The subway will be fine. I'll be over.”

The phone goes silent. Gakushuu shoves it back into his pocket and reenters the living room.

“Visitor?” Araki asks casually as he plays rock-paper-scissors with Koyama over a bag of chips. Koyama picks rock. Araki picks scissors. Grinning in victory, Koyama picks up the bag, starting in on what's left of it.

“Karma is coming over, but he'll be a while.”

Araki’s noncommittal nod is enough for Gakushuu, although he doesn't miss the disdain on Koyama’s face. Which is unfortunate, because less than half an hour later, Karma is knocking on the door, and Ren and Koyama are the only ones left.

“Wonderful,” Ren says, looking between Gakushuu and Koyama. “My ride’s here, so I’ll be leaving. Try not to make this awkward, you two.”

Gakushuu opens the door for Ren, who nods at Karma on the way out. Ren hasn’t even made it down the driveway when Karma leans over and kisses Gakushuu.

It's a quick kiss — a peck, really — but Gakushuu steps back. “Koyama is still here for another few minutes,” he says. “So perhaps you should tone down the affection.”

“It would actually be an excellent opportunity to make out,” Karma says, his eyes landing on the entrance to the living room as Koyama appears in the doorframe. Gakushuu scowls at him. “I wouldn't really, but we should sometime. Anyhow, when my mother heard I actually made a friend — I hope you understand the ridiculousness of telling her you're my friend, by the way — she made me bring over these brownies. Koyama, would you like any?”

Koyama eyes the clear plastic container of brownies in Karma’s hand. Something indescribable flickers across hiface that not even Gakushuu can quite pin down. “If I can have two, I’ll forgive you for taking my finals ranking in eighth grade.”

“You should’ve let go of it by now, considering that I got suspended and transferred to Class 3-E right afterwards,” Karma drawls, but he extends the box to Koyama anyway. “Take three if you like. We’re good?”

“We’re good,” Koyama says, with one of those trademark wheezing cackles of his. After enough time around him, it’s almost charming.

“I see you looking like a happy mom over there, glad her kids are getting along,” Karma says, glancing at Gakushuu. “I still hate you most of all.”

Gakushuu blows him a kiss. It’s so uncharacteristic, both Karma and Koyama laugh.

Somehow, they all end up sitting together in the living room until Koyama's cab arrives. Koyama isn't great at conversation unless it's about science, but he seems happy to eat Karma’s brownies and listen to Gakushuu talk about school, dancing around his curiosity over why Karma is here.

They survive five minutes of conversation together — a new record, considering they usually prefer not to be in the same room as each other — and then Koyama has to leave. “Thanks, Asano,” he says, rising from his seat. “Have fun.” He snags another brownie on his way out.

They both wait until the door slams shut. Karma cocks his head. “Why don't any of your minions call you by your first name?”

“They're not my minions.”

“Every demon has demon minions.”

“I hope that you never get into diplomatic relations,” Gakushuu says. “Besides, Ren calls me by my first name.”

Karma chews on a brownie. Gakushuu is fairly certain they aren't even homemade — both his parents are excellent bakers, and he likes to think he can identify a store-bought baked goods — but he decides not to tell Karma, who might even already know. “The rest all call you Asano.”

“Some distances are difficult to bridge,” Gakushuu says cryptically, deciding to change the subject with the subtlety of a car crash. “Why are you so determined to escape your own house during vacation?”

“My parents aren't like yours,” Karma says, helping himself to the platter of candies on the table. “I don't resent them in any way, at least not how I used to. It's simply that they don't care about me, and I don't care about them.” He gives a noncommittal shrug.

Interesting. Gakushuu arches his eyebrows. “And you can't tolerate their presence?”

“They're not annoying. They leave me alone, usually, but when they don't, they can be quite suffocating.” Karma unwraps a strawberry-flavoured candy — of course he does — and pops it into his mouth. “They've never been quite that great as parental figures.” He sighs. “I've been thinking about other parental figures instead.”

Gakushuu understands instantly. “Your sensei.”

“I don't know if I could stand to talk to one of my classmates about it at the moment. I'd just make them cry, knowing me.” When Karma adjusts his position so that his head lands in Gakushuu's lap, Gakushuu takes it as a cue to thread his fingers through Karma’s hair. “He was a teacher, not a parent, but he was the closest I ever had to either regardless of his actual position. The one-year anniversary of his death is coming up soon.”

Ah. Korosensei died close to graduation, Gakushuu remembers. “I suppose your parents, no matter how hard they may try, are nowhere close to that.”

“They don't try at all, but yes.” Karma unwraps another candy, but instead of eating it, he just stares at it. “I see the updates my class posts to social media and the groupchat, and we’re all moving on, slowly but surely. The moon even looks the way it used to. But underneath it all, nothing is ever the same.”

Well, of course. Gakushuu has done his fair amount of research. He could spout statistics and facts about the moon until he went blue in the face. Still, though, he doesn’t know what to say. _I’m sorry? It’s for the better?_ He sounds like something straight out of a get-well card.

Something in Karma’s face shifts, and though he doesn’t quite seem happy, he still manages to grin at Gakushuu. “You don’t need to comfort me with platitudes,” he says drily, sitting up to kiss him. “Just distract me. It’s one of the last breaks before tenth grade ends. Let’s play one of your video games, and I _know_ you own some, because you’re a sixteen-year-old boy.”

“That’s stereotyping.”

“What, scared to compete with me?” Karma asks, his eyes sharp with challenge, and Gakushuu can’t say no to that. 

* * *

Gakushuu packed up most of his belongings a week before the term ended, unlike Karma, because he knows about things like _organization_ and _time management,_ thank you very much, but something about seeing his empty side of the room depresses him. Of course, Karma chooses to do no such thing. For whatever abominable reason, he becomes even messier in the last week, his belongings spilling over the red boundary and into Gakushuu's territory. Strange as it is, Gakushuu suspects Karma can pick up on the gloominess of it all, and is trying to console himself by making Gakushuu's side of the room look more occupied than it really is.

On the last day, though, there's no helping it. It's time to pack.

"Ugh," Karma says when Gakushuu reminds him of it that morning.

"We should also figure out how to erase the red line. I don't think we're allowed to just leave it there for whoever moves in next year."

"I want to keep this room," Karma says. "I've become rather attached to it."

Gakushuu arches an eyebrow. "This room is reserved for first years only, but I'm sure you could easily convince Principal Shichiro you're not mature enough to move up a level."

"And end up lagging behind you? I'll pass." Karma grins at him, all sharp teeth and a far too attractive face. "Okay, fine. It's time to pack."

He rolls out of bed and promptly hits the floor.

"You're not even _trying_ to get up," Gakushuu observes from his desk. For the first time in three weeks, he's slept a full eight hours, since he has no homework due today. He's well-rested and feels like he's on top of the world, whereas Karma's sinking deeper into hell with every second he lies there on the floor like he’s trying to merge into the floorboards.

"We still have to go to class on the last day of school. That's not fair. I want to skip."

Gakushuu cannot believe he's been dating this petulant child for two months because, for whatever mind-boggling reason, he _likes_ him. "On the last day of school."

"I'm kidding, Gakushuu." Karma heaves himself to his feet, wrapped in his blanket.

The packing gets done, somehow, with Gakushuu ignoring Karma’s every request and plea to help him. “I have far too many goodbye letters to write to concern myself with your trivial affairs,” he says dismissively as Karma debates aloud whether to bring more of his own blankets for next year. “And if you’re thinking to start a pillow fight right now, don’t you _dare._ ”

Karma sighs, muttering something about _why can’t you have fun for once in your extremely short lifespan before you burn over from overwork,_ but Gakushuu ignores that too.

* * *

 On the first day of vacation, Gakushuu really _is_ on vacation. No classes (guitar, piano, French, Portuguese, math, martial arts), no tutoring, no student council meet-ups or community service coordinating, and no coffee. There was one break where he slept the entire twenty-four hours that first day. He regards it as one of the best days of his life.

On the second day of vacation, the obligations start. He’s been elected secretary of Kunugigaoka’s student executive council, and he’ll have to meet up with the other members to discuss plans for the upcoming school year. The basketball coach insists on unofficial weekly practices as well; Gakushuu has grown to be one of the team’s strongest players, and it would be terrible for team morale if he didn’t show up.

On the first day, though, Gakushuu is sleeping for twelve hours, and no one’s going to stop him. Father’s out working on his new school, Mom is in Paris — he will nap through the afternoon if he pleases.

At least until there’s a knock on the door.

The noise that’s dragged out of him is less of an _ugh_ and more of a _blechughblehhgodwhy_. He calls to the maid that he’ll answer it, don’t worry, and swipes his fingers through his hair in a cursory combing before peeking out his bedroom window. There’s a flash of red on his front porch.

He forces the window open with a grunt. “Go away, Karma.”

Karma looks up, squinting in the sunlight. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” he calls up. “It’s your boyfriend, Gakushuu; surely you’re happy about this.”

 _Idiot,_ Gakushuu thinks. _Troublemaker. Delinquent. Hellchild._ “If you wanted to see me, you could’ve waited the entire _thirty-six hours_ until basketball practice.”

“Just let me up, Rapunzel.”

Somehow, Gakushuu comes downstairs and opens the door for Karma. He suspects hypnosis, since he doesn’t even remember stumbling down the staircase, wrapped in his blanket. The moment Karma catches a glimpse of his face, the redhead grins and engulfs him in a hug that’s strangely sincere.

“What, you missed me?” Gakushuu asks drily. “School ended only yesterday, and I haven’t known you to be so clingy you show up at my house less than twenty-four hours after without notifying me first.”

“Please. I cling to you all the time.” Karma steps away to nudge the door shut with his foot.

“You’re _physically_ clingy. That’s not the same thing. Your constant demands to cuddle aren’t the same as this weird emotional clinginess.”

“You love my constant demands to cuddle.”

“True,” Gakushuu concedes. “But please don’t do it right now. It’s too warm, and we’ll both get sticky and sweaty.”

Karma spreads his arms in a _no cuddling_ signal. “I’m not being clingy. The break’s only two weeks. I just wanted to come over to annoy you.”

“Excellent.” Gakushuu sighs and shuffles back upstairs with none of his usual efficiency. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“You’re okay with me messing around with everything in your bedroom?” Karma asks, amused.

“Not in the least. If you like, you can nap with me.”

“When I say something is so boring I could fall asleep, I usually mean it figuratively,” Karma says with a snort. “I’ll knit you more ugly things and make you wear them. You have yarn, right?”

Gakushuu enters his bedroom and flops down on the bed, embracing his pillow with gratitude. “Top shelf of the closet. I have wool and cotton.”

Soon enough, the sounds of knitting needles clacking against each other lulls Gakushuu to sleep. 

* * *

He wakes up with wool pulled over his eyes. Literally. It’s also become far too warm in here.

“Karma,” he says groggily, and then, “What are you eating?”

“Most of the food in this house is unnecessarily healthy,” Karma says, voice thick with disapproval. He yanks the hat up over Gakushuu’s eyes. The redhead is sitting cross-legged next to him; Gakushuu has a good view of his knees. “Your maid was willing to buy me some snacks at the corner store. Want one?”

“She bought you an entire carton of ice cream?”

And it’s _strawberry_ ice cream, too. Karma nods, tilting the carton to reveal that it’s already half-empty. Never in his life has Gakushuu been so speechless.

“Vanilla is the superior flavour,” he says, lying his head back down on the pillow.

“Only if you’re boring. By the way, I met your father again. He wasn’t as awful as I remembered him to be in ninth grade.”

A vague flicker of alarm registers in the corner of Gakushuu’s mind, but really, nothing surprises him anymore, not when he roomed with Karma for a whole year. Strange how he can’t call Karma his roommate anymore. “What did you talk about?”

“He said he was pleased to see what a good influence I was on you,” Karma says, licking drops of half-melted ice cream off his spoon. “One of his greatest concerns is that you’re too hotheaded, and he claims that since you informed him we’re dating, you’ve grown much more relaxed. Much like you’re behaving right now, in fact. You haven’t tried to gouge my eyes out with the spoon even once.”

“Call it a shortage of willpower,” Gakushuu mutters, his cheek pressed against Karma’s knee.

“You? I don’t think so.”

“Perhaps my judgment has become lopsided, then.”

Karma clucks his tongue. “Or you could admit I _am_ a good influence on you.”

“You mean like how we wreck Kiyomoto’s homeroom together, skip school, and intimidate other students until they wet themselves?”

“I’m sure you’ve always wanted to be part of a power couple. I mean, you probably never had a chance before, not with an adorable little kitten like Sato. It’s great intimidating other students, in my opinion.”

“Whatever. What else did Father tell you?”

“Nothing about you, really. We discussed mutual interests and debated current events and the like. He’s interested in my decision to become a bureaucrat.”

Gakushuu’s caught off guard by this description. It sounds like Karma hadn’t actually embarrassed him to badly. That’s good, though. “Okay. That’s nice. I’m going to go shower now.”

Karma shrugs. “Then go shower.”

Gakushuu goes into the bathroom, takes a cold shower that washes the sweat and post-nap grogginess from his skin, and comes out feeling refreshed. Karma nearly chokes on air.

Gakushuu frowns. “What?"

“You–“ Karma makes a wild, flailing gesture in the direction of his torso. Gakushuu remembers he isn’t wearing anything but a towel slung loosely around his hips.

He struggles to keep on a poker face, even as some part of him is blushing too. It’s his house, after all, and he just woke up. It’s not surprising he forgot he had a guest over. Instead of getting defensive, though, he says, “See you something you like?"

Karma’s face is almost as red as his hair, and his gaze keeps flickering back to Gakushuu’s stomach.

“I—you—"

Gakushuu rummages around in the closet and comes out with shorts and a t-shirt. Ducking back into the bathroom to put them on, he calls out to Karma, “Want to make cookies?"

A beat of silence. “Cookies?” Karma repeats.

It’s clear he’s still trying to get over the image of Gakushuu without a shirt on. Didn’t he ever sneak a glance when they were in the locker room?

“You can pick the type. The cook likes to bake, and my parents taught me how.” Not that Gakushuu would ever admit he’s a stress baker. Definitely not.

“You can make chocolate chip, right?"

“I can. Can you?"

“I can be the taste tester,” Karma says without a hint of shame.

Gakushuu finishes dressing. “Actually, that’ll be me. I think I’m allowed to be the first to sample the fruit of my own labors."

They do agree in the end for Karma to be the taste tester, so long as he’s actually helpful during the baking process. This means he preheats the oven (“ _Yes,_ I’ve done this before, I won’t burn down the kitchen”), fetches all the ingredients, and does the mixing when Gakushuu’s arm gets tired. When they’ve slid the pan into the oven and shut the door, Karma eyes the bowl of leftover batter.

“Yes, you can have it,” Gakushuu says. “Just know that I won’t take responsibility if you get salmonella."

Karma sticks out his tongue. “The chances of salm—"

Gakushuu’s already shoved the bowl at him. Karma shuts up and accepts it with a smirk.

While the cookies are baking, Gakushuu brews some coffee to go with them and Karma picks out a movie. Gakushuu glances over at the DVD in his hand and groans. “Are you serious?"

“You don’t just have _one_ shitty chick flick on your shelves, oh no,” Karma says, cracking open the case. “You have _eight_. Does your father have a secret love for them, and can I use it as blackmail material and get hush money out of him?"

“Okay, the American ones were to practice my English,” Gakushuu says. “And an ex-girlfriend forced some of them on me. And—"

Karma’s eyes widen with glee. “Can I get hush money out of _you_?”

“I haven’t even watched half of them."

“Have you watched this one?” Karma holds the DVD case up. It’s about an American city girl who’s just moved to a suburb and is having trouble adjusting when she meets the boy next door. It’s in English, but there’s Japanese subtitles, although Gakushuu’s proud to say that he’s good enough he rarely needs them.

“No, and judging by the summary, it already sounds horrible."

“Good. I know how much you enjoy criticizing things,” Karma replies as he slides in the DVD. The TV lights up and flashes the movie’s title. He flops down on the couch. “Come on, Gakushuu, get your coffee and cuddle with me."

Gakushuu obliges his request. “Before you try anything,” he says, “remember that I’m holding a steaming mug of liquid hot enough to melt off your skin."

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Karma nuzzles the top of his boyfriend’s head. Gakushuu can see his affectionate smile reflected in the TV screen.

“Get cookie batter in my hair or on my face, and you’re dead."

“Got it.” He pecks Gakushuu’s temple. “Just sit back and let’s watch this shitty movie."

“Ugh. You’re impossible.” Gakushuu sips his coffee as the movie begins.

As expected, it starts off terrible. The girl is cute, with dark makeup and a penchant for black clothing and winged eyeliner that garners her neighbors’ immediate disapproval. Karma likes her; he doesn’t need to say that aloud for Gakushuu to know it. When the blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy with two sisters and a spray tan shows up, the redhead’s expression flattens.

“I have no idea what you were expecting,” Gakushuu says. “You chose this. Why do you keep showing me terrible media as a form of flirting?"

“Look, Gakushuu, I still stand by my opinion that the play with the hamster and the apple was great—"

Gakushuu holds up the mug in warning.

Karma quiets. The boy next door, as expected, is a straight A student and football jock—seriously, why do Americans call it soccer when you kick the ball with your foot—who has a possessive, catty girlfriend. Rebellious goth girl says she’s not interested, even though she’s constantly ogling him.

“Blondes aren’t even that cute,” Karma mumbles.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?"

“Your hair is orange. That makes you a redhead, like me. It doesn’t count."

“The proper term is _strawberry blonde_ , actually. It has the word ‘blonde’ in it,” Gakushuu says. “Care to go on? I think I heard something about me not being that cute."

“No, no, you’re cute. It’s just that he’s not."

Gakushuu grins at him, far more amused than annoyed. Then he kisses Karma, just because.

“Mm.” Karma’s blushing for the second time that day. Now _that’s_ cute. He tastes of cookie batter. “I think that’s the first time you didn’t look like you were plotting my murder before a kiss."

“Maybe it’s just because you taste good.” Gakushuu cups his face, kissing him again. Karma’s still blushing, the heat on his skin warm against Gakushuu’s palms. That’s kind of adorable.

Gakushuu pulls away to keep watching the movie, even as Karma presses kisses to the back of his neck. That’s okay. Neither of them are paying attention anyway. Gakushuu just knows that the goth protagonist screams something foul at the catty girlfriend, and that’s when the oven rings.

“The taste tester can go get it,” Gakushuu says.

“Ugh.” Karma does it anyway. As he’s pulling on the oven mitts—honestly, why didn’t Gakushuu make him wear the maid’s pink floral apron to balance out the embarrassment of Karma finding out he owns eight chick flicks—the phone buzzes once, twice. Gakushuu pauses the movie and checks his texts.

Teppei Araki _has sent a file to_ Rest in peace, Koyama’s long hair _._ 5:17 PM

 _The first day of journalism camp has been good. My photography class is amazing!_ Teppei Araki in Rest in peace, Koyama’s long hair, 5:18 PM

 _You just had to Photoshop me until I wasn’t beautiful anymore. :(_ Ren Sakakibara in Rest in peace, Koyama’s long hair, 5:18 PM

Gakushuu opens the attachment to see such a dramatic distortion of one of their group photos that he almost drops his phone into his coffee mug. Upon further inspection, he’s been given a pair of antennae, facial features that are wildly out of proportion, and neon green hair. The others have suffered just as much, save for Araki, who looks like a supermodel next to them.

 _“Anymore?”_ Tomoya Seo, 5:18 PM

Ouch. Gakushuu smiles down at his screen as Ren spams the groupchat with selfies in an attempt to prove Seo wrong. Karma appears with the cookies in tow, enormous floral oven mitts engulfing his hands. Cookie crumbs are already on his mouth.

“I tested them. They’re a solid four out of five,” Karma declares, setting them down on the coffee table. He pulls the oven mitts off his hands and swipes Gakushuu’s phone. “Couple selfie?"

Gakushuu raises his eyebrows.

Karma sits down and practically pulls him into his lap, pulling up the camera on his phone. “Look pretty,” he says, his chin resting on Gakushuu’s shoulder, and snaps a photo, then sends it to the groupchat.

Gakushuu is too comfortable to murder him. “You’re not allowed to have any more cookies."

Karma scowls. “We’re divorcing."

“We’re not even married.”

“Divorcing," Karma emphasises.

 _I’m putting that in the school newspaper. It’s disgustingly cute._ Teppei Araki, 5:20 PM

“Aw, I think that’s a sign of approval,” Karma says. “All I need is Ren to say the same thing, and we already have your best man for the wedding."

“You just said we’re divorcing."

Karma swipes another cookie from the table. “Now that I’ve permitted myself some more of these,” he says, waving it around, “we can remarry."

Gakushuu snags Karma’s wrist and takes a big bite out of the cookie. It’s warm, with the chocolate chips still melting. He smirks at his boyfriend.

Karma looks down at the mostly-eaten cookie like Gakushuu just tossed a puppy into a river full of piranhas. “Never mind."

Eventually — which means after Gakushuu finishes scrolling through the groupchat and reading about the Virtuosos’ summers so far — they get back to the movie. Goth protagonist continues arguing with catty girlfriend, boy next door swoops in to take her side, and girlfriend and boy break up in the process. Boy says his social status will die a fiery, painful death, but he can’t stand to see the protagonist treated unfairly, so it was worth it. On impulse, the girl asks him out, and he says yes.

As the couple’s sharing a smoothie at a fast food place, Gakushuu taps Karma’s shoulder.

The redhead blinks. “Do I have cookie crumbs on my mouth?"

 _Yes_ , Gakushuu’s about to say, but instead blurts out, “I love you."

Karma is beautifully unhesitating as he replies, “I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Chinese New Year to those who celebrate it, by the way!

**Author's Note:**

> Come cry with me about Asano Gakushuu and/or Karma/Gakushuu on Tumblr [@karushuus](http://karushuus.tumblr.com).


End file.
